L ^ 






Foil Honor's Sake. 



A DRAMA OF THE CIVIL WAR. 



IN FIVE ACTS 



BY 



LAWRENCE MOORE. 



For Hon^or^s Sake. 

A DRAMA OF THE CIVIL WAR. 
IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY 



LAWRENCE MOORE, 



•No.MllSJL!: 



0.^ 1879. o> 






CHARACTERS. 



3r 



TS4 



Tom Ch4se, ) Law students in New York. 

Hal Vincent, f Old college friends. 

Col. Vincent, A Virginian planter. 

Mamie Vincent, His daughter — devoted to. Virginia and 
the South, 

Mr. Fitzhugh, Who believes Craft will conquer Honor. 

Hiram Chase, Tom's father — who hates Slavery. 

Mrs. Chase, His mother. 

Ruth, Their foster-daughter. 

Jake, Devoted to the Colonel and Mamie. 

Judge Vining. 

Gen, Moak, 

Miss Browne, Governess — who does not hide ber. devo- 
tion to the Colonel. 

Rosa, Mamie's maid. 

Marks, Accomplice of Fitzhugh. 

Molly, Waiter-girl. 



SYNOPSIS. 



Act I. Love Kindled. 

Scene — Restaurant Parlors in New York. 
Act n. Love Plighted. 

Scene 1 — At White Sulphur Springs. 

Scene 2 — 'I he same — a month later. 
Act in. Love Wounded. 

Scene 1 — At Col. Vincent's plantation. 

Scene 2 — At Tom Chase's home. 
Act IV. Love Trie.i. 

Scene — Battle Ground by Moonlight. 
Act V. Lovt^ Trimnphant. 
i Scene — At Col. Vincent's plantation. 

\ *^ . '■5VclI ,v' (Copyright, 1879.) 



FOR HOlSrOH'S S^KE. 

ACT 1. 

LOVE KINDLED. 

Scene. — Elegant restaurant parlors in iV. Y. Rear and 
front p<irlors, brilliantly lighted; t^everal tables; center 
standf xeith flowers and fo'intain. Time., earlg evening. — 
Molly present — very neatly dressed — a lace r a jf around her 
■neck — peeps into rear parlor. 

Molly. — Thvre comes hlv. Oh;»se, that often lunches l)ere 
with ttiat handsome yoniii^ Virginian Well, he's a fine 
young te)h)w, an)' way. An' he's ihal brigljt in the eyes, 
now, an' that coaxin' about the mouth — a rale Irish sort uv 
a look — that no girl's heart could long resist him But I'm 
sure Mr Chase must be in love — he acts that quart', now. 
Whin he happens to be alone he does be takm' out some pic- 
tur— I think it is— behint his paper. An'he lOOks at it so lev- 
in', an' he ^alks to it so coaxin' — jist like Tim whin he's ma- 
kin' love to me in the park. He'll wait tor the other wan, I 
think — so I'll jist watch him a bit. (Molly retires, Tom en- 
ters.) 

7bm. — Well, that was a brilliant fencing lesson Captain 
Molinet (Molina) gave me. He tells me I am a finished 
swordsman. I suppose it was a foolish thing, perhaps, to 
make myself such, because a romantic girl — seen only once, 
a year ago — admired the art. But what rill fond Youth not 
do for Love? By the G>>ds of War! (takts swordsman's at- 
titude, using his cane) if the days of chivalry were to come 
again, I should d<»re to hoi>e that I might prove the bravest 
knight who wins the fairest fair. (Makes a pass.) The Cap- 
tain tells mi" I hiive a very pretty thrust. [Makes .vnother 
pass, almost hitting Molly as she ent«-rg — MoJly makes an 
outcry ] 

Molly. — The Lord forgive ye, Mr. Chase, for strivin' to 
wound my poor heart! 



4 70R HONOR S SAKE. 

Tom- — Noniense, Molly. You know I wouldn't hurt your 
kind little heart. 

Molly.— Ira afeared, Sir, [coyly] ye might hurt it widout 
thryin.' 

Tom. — No, it takes Hal to plague you — he'll be h«»re soon. 

Molly. — Isn't he full wf fun, though, for wan that has so 
much of the rale gintlliiy about him ? 

Tom. — How do you know "gintility" when you see it, 
Molly? 

Molly. — Shure, I can tell it as I do a potaty — by the looks 
o' the skin. Och, I've seen a plinty of gintility in ould Ire- 
land. 

Tom. — But I thought the nobility there were hated by 
the rest of the people. 

Molly. — Ah, no, yer honor, We like to have a few o' 
thira amopi; us It would be a poor bit of an island if it 
couldn't raise a few gintle folks 

Tom, — [Sitting down.] Come, Molly, bring a bottle of 
claret — and order our u«iual lunch. 

Molly — Yes, I'll bring it in a minute, Sir. [Aside: I 
think I know whose pictur he does be lookin' at — an' mebbe 
1 can make sure.] Mr. Chase — sorra wan o' me knows if he 
has wan or not — but if he has, thin the puniest and shwa- 
test girl in all Virginia is Mr Vincent's sister. 

Tom. —[Sternly — with imperious gesture towards the door 
— Molly jumps b^ck frightened] Molly, go! We've talked 
too much already. 

Molly. — [ rurning to him, — with tones of real regret.] I 
beg yer pardon, Mr. Chase; 1 didn't mane to talk so much. 
[Aside, as she goes out] — Musha, how be frekened me! An' 
taix he's as g»>od a lord a« the other wan. But I knowed 
well enough about that pictur. I needn't run the risk o' me 
life to make sure o' that. [Exit.] 

Tom., — [Ta'^ing out picture] Yen, Mamie's name is sacred 
to me. [Ibises and pnces to and fro — looking at picture.] 
Lovely vision I To traiiBter this one fair face I gained the 
painter's skill. How I blessed your brother when he hung 
your picture on ihe wall — yet knew not how I worshipped 
ilr ! I blessed the artist who wrought the marvel! I bless- 
ed the sun that gave light for his work ! [Sits down agpin ] 
I tvish Hal would come. Somehow I'm always lonely unless 
at work. [Hal entem ] Alone in a great city! — Daily if 
this suggestive thought forced upon me ! 



FOU HONOR S SAKE. 5 

-fi^a/.— Yes, too damnably sugrgestive, Tom. A loan — in a 
yreat city — is suggested so foifibly to my mind that I have ee- 
riously tlioiight of making a forced loan — a la Signor Corti- 
na, of Mexican-border fame, 

Tom. — For sweet Heaven's sake, Hal, spare the puns, and 
I'll advance the needful funds to settle poker debts. 

Hal. — Well, I'll spare the punts, if you'll spare the funds. 
But why saids't thou "For Heaven's sake," Tom? [Sitting 
down.] 

Tom. — I' faith, Hal, because I read last night a monkish 
legend that troubled my sleep; and in my dreams I saw St. 
Peter's gate bearing this inscription : "Abandon puns, all ye 
who enter here." 

Hal. — Then few can enter, Tom, when every poor devil's 
prayer must be "O, pun (open) to me. St. Peter!" 

7bm.— Horrible, most horrible. [Enter Molly, with wine 
on tray."] 

Hal. — Why, how do you do, Molly? [She curtseys]. — 
Yuu're looking as tresh as the May. 

Molly — An' why shouldn't I, sir, wliin that's the very 
month it is? I couldn't look so in January. So don't be 
flatterin' a poor girl. [Goes off, hesitatingly.] 

Hal — Molly. [She stops eagerly.] Don't hurry. I read 
a German poet yesterday, who sang a song in winter— -in 
.January — to a certain Molly, and he said: 

W'lien ripe lips yield their fruit most rare — 

Ah, then what perfect bliss ! 
No strawberries or cherries, e'er 

So sweet as Molly's kiss. 
Ah, May, why should I pine for thee? 
The charms of Spring are still with me. 

Molly, — [Rising] I think I'll test his theory. [Dances 
around Molly, threatening to kiss her.] 

Tom. — Hal, look out! Beware that saw like piece of flum- 
mery about her neck. [She wears a ruff around the throat ] 
What do you call it, Molly? 

Mol. — It's a pickit fince, yer honor, to kape the boys from 
jumpin' over. [Hal and Tom latigh.] 

Hal — Well, well, you're a clever girl. And how you would 
astonish the triends back in old Ireland with your free Amer- 
ican ways. The old mother, if she's living, wouldn't know 
you. 

Mol. — [Sobbing a Httle.] Don't say that, sir. And, if ye 
plaze sir, don't spake of m^ poor mother. I'm thinkin' of 



6 FOR HONOR S SAKE. 

her that oftei) now, that I can't help cryin' at tlie thought 
ot hen For if tlie Lord is kind I'll have enough saved agin 
the coinin' summer to bring her over— for she's a dear moth- 
er to me, sir — an' she's h<'en cryin' her eyes out to see me 
these sivin long yearn. You see I'm not the same happy 
Molly whin I tliink of her, sir. (Drops her head sobbing) 

H<il. — Here, Tom. give me an X — I haven't one handy. 

Tom. — Yes, old fellow — and I'll go another myself on that 
hand. 

7/a/.--IIerc' Molly, take this, to buy some little eomforts 
foi' your old mother when she comes. 

Mol — (Lifting her head proudly.) You are too kind, gin- 
tlf^meu. I didn't spake thiin words tu open your purses. — 
Thank Gf>d, I'm no beggar, yet. 

Hal. — [Quietly, but commanding) You must take it, 
Molly — f'r yotu" mothei's sake. 

Mol. — (Breaking down ) The Lord be kind to ye both 
— and yer mothers, too, and give thim the softest rockin' 
chairs in heaven. (Hurries oul.) 

Hal — N(>thing touches my heart so, Tom, as something 
that suggests my mother. And that reminds me — I had a 
glorious surprise to day. The Col. and Mamie are in the 
city. The little puss delights in surprises, and my message 
this morning was from her. And I've got an order thatem- 
l,)races you. 

Tom. — Embraces me? Charming — I mean impossible. — 
Please explain. 

Hal. — VVell, they stop only a day or two; and Mamie will 
liear all the Onera that's soinc:. So this eveninc: we are or- 
tlere(t out as her escort to hear Madam LaGrange, and must 
ineet them at the Fifth Avenue. 

Toin — I surrender unconditionally. We northerners never 
can resist southern dictation. 

Hal. — Well, I told them you were coming here to lunch. 
So they sent me to capture you. By the way, there's a five- 
minute njatter over at the office I want you to help me about. 
Step over with me, please. Then back to lunch; then to the 
Opera. (They go out through rear parlor; immediately the 
Col., Mamie and Rosa enter from side. Col. V, wears blue 
dress coat with brass buttons — light colored pantaloons — 
black satin vest — dark silk cravat, and broad-brimined felt 
hat. Mamie attired in elegant street costume. Enter Molly.) 

Mol. — Would you like lunch, sir? 



KOK HOXOB S SAKE. 



Col. V. — No, U'k early- yet, and weMl wait some friends; 
But you may bring us a claret punch. (Molly stares hard at 
Rosa — Rosa returns the stare with interest.) What an idea, 
M iniie, to corae over to surprise Hal again —or is it Tom 
this time, eh? But are you not tired, darling? 

Mani'e. — Just a little, papa. And you — too, look worn— ^ 
and I thought more than once to-day you looked sad. Are 
you troubled, papa, dear? (Mamie sits.) 

Col. V. — No, M iinie, but this travelling is a new thing for 
us — what a freak it was to take this lightning trip north 

Mamie. — Fes, it was. (Petting her father.) And you are 
such a (iear old Col., to eorae, and t)iiy me such beautiful 
dresses. But 1 want to shine at th6 Springs, you know, this 
season. 

Col. V — You couldn't help that, darling — but for whom? 
— not for that Fitzhugh, I hope, who followed us up here. 

Mamie. — Followed us? — why he said he came — to see 
about important business. 

Col. V. — He somehow makes it his business to see you, 
at every possible opportunity. But — I'll have no fear — my 
daughtt-rs heart will guide he. aright. (Col. V. waits 
around, looking at pictures.) 

liosa. — Miss Mamie, le' me put dis yere scarf ober yer 
shoulders. De Lor bress ye — sposin' ye'd kotch yer deff o' 
cold u|) yere — what ud all yer lubbers do den? he, he, he! 
[Puts scarf on Mamie's shoulders.] 

Mamie. — Don't call them lubbers, Rosa. They wouldn't 
feel flattered. ' . . •"'"' 

Hosa. — Well, I know dey'll all go crazy fur ye — ^jes like 
dey did las' sunnuer. So I'se goin' to call 'em crazy lubbers. 
An' I'se gwine to tell ye one bressed ting mo' — Miss Mamie 
— I don't like ye to haf dat niggah-lookin' fellah — dat Fit/, 
hugh — roun' ye so much. He's de debbil—sJio ! 

(Molly enters— with punch — hears Rosa's emphatic ^''Deb- 
bil, sho"" — gives a little scream and runs back ) 

Mamie.— Oh, Rosa, that's foolish. You dislike him be- 
cause you heard him swearing at the Yankees for running ofl" 
slaves. But the Col. talks the same way, you know. '' 

Jiosa. — Now don't ye go fur to make me mad, Miss Wa- 
mie. Ye knows I don't kar no mo' 'bout de Yanks den ye 
does. An' ye knows if I wur free dis bressed night I'd i;eb- 
ner leab you air de Cunnel, But dat fellah's de debbil, sLoI 



8 FOR HONOR S SAKE. 

T feels it in my finger-nails shore's I see um. (lipids up her 
hands — clenching fingers.) 

Mamie^ — That's one of your superstitions, Row. Yon 
know I don't believe in such things. 

Rosa. — It's de Lor's own truf, d«n, Miss Mamie. I neb- 
ber made any mistake. A*i' I alius can tell a pusson dat's 
got de debbil in 'im. (Molly enters hesitatingly and puts 
down tray.) I feel jes like I wanted to claw 'im, (Rosa 
claws the air savagely — Molly shrieks and rushes off.) 

Mamie. — (Rising and app oaching her faiher — -taking his 
hands tenderly) Papa, dear, tell me, won't you? 

Col. V. — Tell you what, my darling? 

Mamie. — No, no, — you can't decieve me — even for love's 
sake. Something grieves you. 

Col. V. — It is only that some strange fancies h'iv« haunted 
me to-day — and I may have looked a little sombre. It is an 
anniversary. 

Mamie. — Papa, dear, I should count it an injustice, if you 
denied me the privilege of sharing your griefs as well as your 

joys- 

Col. v. — Yes, yes, I know. And I think your light spirit 
will help banish a shadow that has so haunted me to day — 
the fear that my folly might have blighted your life. (Pla- 
ces chairs — they sit.) I'he story is simple — 1 can tell you 
while we are waiting. — While I was in Europe I fell in with 
a young Louisianian, who fascinated me with his graces of 
mind and person. He seemed indeed a twii;^-spirit to my 
soul, and we became devoted friends. Alter our return t 
saw nothing of him until he came to visit me, brmging his 
only child, a beautiful boy of five years, whose mother had 
died of fever in New Orleans only the month before. 

jdamie. — Poor boy — never to know a mother's love. 

Col. V. — His father was taking him abroad, intending to 
devote himself to the education of his son. (Fitzhugh and 
Marks come to rear door unperceived — Fitz. stops surprised 
— After listening to the next faw sentences they retire unno- 
ticed.) Little Clarence loved you at ©nce--and you, little 
coquette, seemed lo smile upon him all the wealth of your 
little heart. I was young and romantic, then, so one day 
his father and 1, with hands clasped over your heads, solemn 
ly pledged your future marriage. 

Mamie. — And was that all, papa dear? He would be a 



FOK uoxgr's sake. 9 

glorioas lover, I'm sure — Clarence — what was his name? — 
And when is he coming to claim his promised bride? 

CqI V — Clarence Merrivale — aud \i the boy belied not the 
man, he would truly have been a glorious lover Without 
pledge on our part he would have drawn you uito the depths 
of his henrt, as the sea drinks in the moon's radiance. 

Mamie. — How poetic, papa. What a glorious loeer jou 
must have been. But when shall I see my mysterious k'liirht? 

Col V. — (Rising.) Heaven forgive me for rejoicing that 
you can never see him. I received a letter from London, 
saying they were to sail next day for a Mediterranean port. 
It was the last word I i:(>t--the sh p was I'ever seen again. 

Mamie — (Rising — putting up her head and kissing her fa- 
ther ) l*oor papa! It makes you sad. But Fm glad you 
told me. And since it has grieved you so, we'll never speak 
uf it Mgiin — never again But I will keep myself for my boy- 
luver — and for you 

Col. V. — Seriously, Mamie, do you like this Fitzhugh 
much, who seems so devoted ? 

M<im,ie. — Ha, ha! What a jealous adorer! Seriously ihen, 
papa — No, I detest lum. But please go and inquire about 
Hal and Torn. (The Cul. retires into rear parlor ) 

/?'.>.s'a. — (Coming up to Mamie) Miss Mamie — dey mug' be 
Kings nn' Princes up yere. 

Mam,ie. — Why no they're not Rosa. How stupid! 

Hosa. — (Indignantly.) What fur dey have white ladies 
fur waiters, den? — See dat gal goia' roun' — she aint no uig- 
gah. 'i'ink I can't see nuffin? 

Col. V. — (Entering hastily.) This is too bad, Mamie. — 
They left just as we came. Come, we'll probably find them 
waiting at the Hotel. ' ''" 

Mamie. — W h^t a stupid schemer I am, papa,— edt to think 
of that. It mast be Fate. Come, Rosa. (They go out. — 
Fitzh. and Marks enter ) 

JPitz. — Mark8-T-she accepted my attentions down at the 
Springs — and I came up here only to be near her— to hear 
her voice. Why should she speak words that rouse all the 
demon in my nature. With her love I could forget all the 
blackness of my past life. And she— detests me. Marks, I 
swear — sooner or 1. ter, she shall be mine. Heaven gave me 
a crafty brain — and Craft will conquer even Honor. 

Marks. — It is a hard go to be detested by the girl you — 



10 FOR honor's sake. 

Well, Fitz, (\ti yon really love tlie girl — or is it a liumlrfd or 
two of niirujerf you're after? 

Fitz — Well, there is a d'vilish tine lot of ni<r.;eis, I sup- 
post — but I Want the girl herself. She's a heaiiry Ami 
best of all, siie hates the canting, hypucntical Yankees as 
huarnlv as I do. 

Alarks. — Oh, — to the devil with the Yanket-s — Politics 
isn't my trade. But you're not as sharp as u-uil I've not 
lost iny skill > ith a pen — you know I've tlone business of 
that sort once or twice before — and if you give nie the Col's 
signature, I'll give you ihe original <()ntract hi- was telling 
her abv)Ut — that binds her to you — Clarence Meniv^le. — 
She'd never know the ditference — and she'd keep it from her 
father for his sake — and marry you for Honor's sake — Sef ? 
(Pokes him in the side.) 

JFitz. — Shaking his hand.) Well thought of, ol'' boy. — 
The girl's mine. You see I've got an ally in the camp al- 
reidy — a sharp Yankee Governess. 

(Hal and Tom enter — Molly also comes in ) 

Tom. — Now for lunch, Molly. — Yt s, that was a [>retl> fair 
speech we heard last night, Hal. VV%)uIdii't there be free- 
dom down south for such speeches as I hat? 

Fitz. — [Interrupting.] You happen t<» know d— d bttleof 
the South, sir, if you believe any lymt;, hypocritical Yankee 
can ever make a speech south of iViason & Dixon's line. 

H'll. — [Indignant] I happen to know that n<)t all Sou'h- 
erners are ungentlemanly swaggerers —as I know that not 
all Northerners are cowards. As I was about to say, Tom, 
the couiitry is in imminent dauger of being talked to deat,h. 
The Southern demagogues and N(jrthern fanatics have tp 
gather managed to work the nation into a perfect feVeV 

7bm.--rm afraid you're about right, ^ud 1 fear we, can- 
not break the fever without copious, blood Wtvuig- TT^i'w 
and Hal sit.] ."''■' ',;;'•> 

JIal. — ^If it comes to that, old boy, we'll yreak the Union 
^ith the fever, . • / 

Fitzh.- [Talk.ng ^with Marks— loud enough to be over- 
heard J 'I hey breed some devilish ha|ndsom^ niggers rih(f re, 
'I'tellyou 'r "!'•.■'. ''-'"• 

Tom.—\i.m\'i say that Ha], for I liaye a C()fnvi(Jti.f).n as 
8tion|^ as life itself, that the day must come 'yhen iio^, Vir- 
ginia, and not Massachusetts, shall claim our dearest iyv« 



FOR honor's sake. 11 

and service,- but the ixraiid old Union — perhaps scarred and 
niaitned, but with her flag unreiit and ennolded. 

Fitz. — [Turning insolently — Mai is seated so as to face 
him.] Fll b(- d — d if IM hsten to this cheap, political cant. 

Hal. — [Lookinir Fifzliu-rh squarely in the eye, cowes him-- 
thin to Tom ] Yon tnlk well, my boy,— you'd makf a pow- 
erful |)reacher. By the way. North and South they arc the 
fiercest Un on h.it« rs. Bui you may count on a rampant 
preacher for the best man to s»!t on a fight — when he is to 
stand by and see others do the fighting. [Fitzhugh and 
Marks rise.] 

Marks. — Are th(? nigger women as liandsome down there 
as tht^ yaller gals in Louisiana? 

Fitz. — A he.ip liamlsomcr. And oje Virginny's got some 
of the slickest whitf w<»inen you ever saw [llal, excited — 
lialf rises.] And i find that wotnen there are the same as 
women the world over. VVe ^Southerners know the world — 
and hate your canting, lying Yankee morality. We are not 
fcuch hypt)crites as to claim there are any women upon earth 
lio .'■ ^iin< is unassailable 

Hal. — [Springing at him with drawn revolver.] Down on 
your knetsi Down! [Fitzhugh sinks down with Hal's hand 
on ins thro?t.] Now 8walk)w the black lie that befouU my 
mother and sister. Eat your words, you lying vilbun, or 
your tongue shall never wag again. I swear it. By the an- 
gels in heaven, I swear it! 

Fitz — [Gasping.] Yes, y-es. It was only a joke. 

Hal. — [Without 1 »wering piwt^)!.] You infernal libel on 
manhood — 1 mean no joke ! iSpeak — or Fll — 

Fitz. — [In great trepidation.] Oh yes, yes. — It wasn't 

true, 1 bed-. . ;. ' . ■ ;, ,, , :,v,,,; , M ,. ;• :-.i|M', .M.; ^ ■ ' 

Hal — [Slowly loweriiijS^itheire'VbJireir.]' Now go, and nev- 
er ape the gentleman again. [Fitz. liurries towards the door] 
i ■ ZTa/.-r-If y<»u have lesiough genuine'Southern blood to wish 
satisfaction, I shall be happy to answer your demand. [To s 
sea card which falls on fliMtc, as Fitz. and Marks hurry out.] 
Jiittnii cuKTAlUr ^ALLS. ■ 

■ifvit ': Txl ovi)i J'iil>ijiu:) nt\ fH'jhiH'ul ; tut ^h^ 

♦'■ » '>|i oi fiouin OR b?>ll f»':>I! ,f>riii\i :l . . ,;>/()| Ollf., 

)'nh!uo?» 9il i\ni3 t''"''''*^ '"" '>ti(l^? (iitiiuniw n a 

.;...; •,...;,( .. <l : }/ ., : \.' 



12 FOR honor's sake. 



ACT 11. 
LOVE PLIGHTED. 

Scene L At thb White Sulphur Speings. 

[.4 rustic seat — a hedge of c'imbing roses —the Hotel in the 
distance. Jake comes from fishing — %rith basket andtod.^ 

.J.Hkt' — (Sitliiig.) I'll be dog go ed cf I don't squat down 
on this yere lover's seat. Now ef Beauty war only catchin'' 
it moiijilit make me hansum [Fitzhugh passes through — 
looks supereiliouKly at Jake.] Blisters an' blamenation — 
but he's a tetoeioui vlllin — /'m nhore uv it —an' sech h darn- 
ed coward to boot, he don't stand no show nv gittin' to 
heaven! T haint got nuthin agin tlie jinwine quality peo- 
ple, sech ez the Gunnel's tambly--bnt sech dinged rotten - 
souled, blue blasted, mean trash ez thet Fitzhugh— alU'^s 
puttin on ez many airs ez a Boss Deril — I hate 'em like 
snakes. An' I'm afeared he's gittin hold uv our leetl»> Ma- 
mie. Ef I thort the Lord would send him a dcjse uv chain- 
lightnin', I'd git down on my shanks an' pray right sma t, 
[Sees Rosa.] lluilo, Rosie — pike over yrre — woan'tye? 

Rosa. — What fur ye set dar'an' gib me orders fur — eh? 

Jake'. — Cum, Ro5ie — I don't want ter quar'l to-day — I 
want ter giv ye a little luv-talk. 

Rosa. — Go way dar — ye knows I nebber listens — 

Jake. — Rosie, I want ter speak ter ye o' Miss Mamie. 

i?03a.— [Stopping.] Well, wot yer got ter say 'bout my 
Missis? 

Jake. — Cum, Miss Rosie [Rosa mollifies] we're right good 
friends arter all. Fur ye're a loikely ijal, 5liS8 Rosie — an' ef 
I'm not exacly a 'ristocrat, I'm a dog-gone iight better 'n 
thet measly critter thct's loafin' ronn' Miss Mamie. all the 
time. Now karn't we do suthin' ter fix the varmnnt? 

Roia. — Dat's de truf, Jake. IU's---ugh ! I'd like to claw 
'im [Claws the air] But we can't do nuffin. 

Jake. — Yer see, Rosie, he wants ter marry Miss Mamie — 
an' mostly fur the nigs. Besides, he couldn't give her a right 
clean, pure love, ef he tried. He's hed so much to do wuth 
low down wimmin, white an' yaller, thet he couldn't preshi- 
ate sech a woman ez Miss Mamie. But bless her innocent 



POK honor's SAKE. 13 

heart — she karn't understand that. An' I believe the out- 
daciou8 catamount's gittin' euni power over her. 

liosa.—Yes, Jake. 1 dun made dat observrafion — an' I 
dun !Tub Miss Mamie warnin' — liut she's so proud and fear- 
less, dat she jeB laff at me. So we can't do nuffin'. 

Jake. — Thar's one thii'ig we kin do, Rosie. 'When we find 
he's got her oiF alone a worryin' uv her, we kin jei drap 
down on 'em sort o' happen-chaiice, an' kinder head off his 
dingnation palaver. When a feller's cornered up a gal, an'B 
tryin ter say his purtiest, it breaks up his plans the measliest 
!<ort o' way ter hev tome one <lrap down on 'em. I used ter 
iind it s«» with my Sally. An' ef we kin only hunt the feller 
close fur a few days, Mr. Hal '11 be here then, an' 

Hc.sa. — Hi, Jake— ^dsr dey cum. 

Jake. — Then hide yerself yere with me — t.whin he gitis far- 
Iv settled we'll pike in on 'em, purtendin' a quarl hotter'n a 
kittle o' turpentine iitire. [They run behind the hedge — En- 
ter Fitzhugh and Mamie.] 

Mamie. — [Sitting] No, you mustn't sit — there's room 
for only one. But you may stand and look at me. 

Fitzhugh. — A gracious privilege— -thanks. Your brother 
liiust be a princely fellow. I was sorry I did not see Lira in 
New York, and I shall rejoice to meet him. ' ' liToii expect him 
soon no»v, do you not? l. i r 

Mamie —Yes, I expect him any day now — and I'm terri- 
bly Vexed he doesn't come — it's so lonely here. (Fitz 
scowls.) But maybe you won't rpjoice to have him come — 
he's going to bring Tom with him — Tom's his chum, you 
know--and one of those Yankees you despise so much. But 
Hal likes him a« he would a brother. ' 

Fitz. — I hope you may like him only after Hal's fashion, 
then. And I doubt if you can do that — those Northerners 
are so awfully low-bred. 

Mamie. — Mr, Fitzhugh, you forget yourself You are 
speaking of my brother's cherished friend. He is a gentle- 
man, too— and comes of an old New England family. Nev- 
er speak slightingly of him again. 

(Kosa comes running in, followed by Jake.) 

Jake. — Bullets an' blisters, yer rantankerons galoot! — 
Pike oft", now, or I'll lamm ye till ye're whiter'n.Squar Jones' 
old mar-ira&':»8l)e war so white ye couldn't see harbyday- 
Ught! ^i U\K\-h na .'.'' : ^^ 



14 KOR honor's sarb. 

Mamie. — (Laugliing.^ O, what a splendid qaarrel — that's 
bettt-r than ours, Mr. FitzliUijh. 

Roaa. — (Starting toward -Take — makes Fitz jump, as she 
comes ill liis direction.) Ugh — I'd like to claw 'im. (Claws 
the air.) 

M'lmie. — (Laughing ) Why, Rosa, you startled Mr. 
Fitzliugli. And you really do look frightful. You may go, 
Rosa. 

liosa. — Yi'8, MisH Mamie. (Then turns quickly.) Ugh — 
le' me claw 'im. (Fitzhugh winces. Rosa runs off) 

Fitz — Here, you fellow, out of this ! Join your black beau- 
ty yonder. 

Jake. — (A sudden start —clenching tist, but not going — 
Fitzliugh winces.) The mis'ble caterwaulin' hyena ! 

Mamie. — Why, Jake, you're positively ferocious — isn't he, 
Mr. Filxhugh? But I like to see a man ft-rocious now and 
and then 

Fitz. — (Assuming bravado.) Insolent boor — did you hear 
..me? 

Jake. — (Moves only an arm — so quickly as to m»»ke Fitz- 
hugh wince ) 

Fitz. -Come, off with you, or I'll —(Jake turns so quickly 
as to startle Fitz ) 

Mamie. — Yes, Jake, I wish you would leave us. 

Jake. — I beg yer pardun. Miss Mamie — I'm yours to cum- 

mand — every inch uv me, recknin' six-fut-three. (He bows 

with rough irrace and retires.) 

1,, Fitz — How can you endure such low people? — I've passed 

SO much time in Europe, that such boors positively shock me. 

Mamie. — Mr. Fitzhngh, you are a little too "English in 
your taste." I'm sure they don't shock me. (Enter Rosa, 
bringing shawl.) 

Rosa. — Won't ye put *'is on, , Miss Mamie? It's allers 
drefful chilly towards ebenin' up in dese yere mountains. 

Jftfmi<5.— ^(Laughing.) Why Roia, I'm not cold. You're 
too careful of me. 

Rosa. — De Lor' bress ye, honey, I'se got to be keerful uv 

ye when ye'se gwine to be de b^lle ob de Springs. 

-^ Mamie.~No, no, Rosa, that caa 'newei be You're preju- 

'> dici:d in ray favor. i ;■ ■ i 

. / Resa — C^an't be, Mi8», I nebber was pred-i-juced in no- 

'boddy's favah. An' I didn't say nuffin what isn't ao. It's 



FOR HONOR 8 SAKE. 15 

true as Baptis pieachiri' in de C.iroline. Fur Caesar toll me^ 
drtt Tim tfll him dut when ye dun tuk yer steps in de ball 
room las' nitrht, all dc youiig g(Mnmen — an' S(*n\e o' de vie 
ones, too — look jjone iistrac; an' a sinkin fru de flo'. 

Monde — There Rosa, you may go ?iow. Isn't she an arch 
flatterer, Mr. Fitzhugh? '(Rosa goes) 

F'itz. — Why do you not let me praise you with the same 
freedom ? 

Ma;,tie.- No, no, Rosa does take liberties, I confess. But 
when she was a little pickaninny we p'ayed together*, and 
I know that all her fond exaggeration comes from the iieart. 

J^itz. — So too, Mis:«i Vincent, every word of praise that I 
might speak — if you hut gave me liberty (taken attitude) 
would come fr<mi — (Ros:i comes — Fitzli. turns away discom- 
■fited.) 

Rnsa. — Mis« Mam e — ef you don't tiiik it's cold, ye mus' 
tink it's wa'm — so I dun rbtched ye a fiiti. (Displays » large 
tan ) 

Mamie — (Tiaui;hing.) Yes, Rosa, it is a little uncomfort* 
ablf this evening. (Itota fans Mamie --Fitz. rises ) 

Fitz. —With j<»ur permi8si<»n I'll withdraw for the present, 
Miss Vincent. You are doubtless fatigued with your long 
ride. When you are rested your white slave will wait your 
commands. (He retires.) 

Roaa — Wha' fur ye let 'im stay roun' Miss Mamie? He 
de wuss one ol) de hull lot But da„ young iremman we seed 
in York — de Lor' bress ye. Miss Mamie — can't ye see ez Rw- 
sie does — dat he got de trut in his eye, and de liib in his 
heart? — Oh — Golly — dar's de Cuunnel. (Enter Col. and 
Jake — The I'ol also with rod and basket.) 

Jf'tmie — (Jumping up to embrace her father.) O Papa, 
I'm so glad you've come. 

Col. V — Bless you, my child. And I've been straining 
my eyes to catch a glimpse ot you. But you speak of me as 
if I were a lover. 

Mamie — (Embracing him and looking lovingly into hii 
face.) And eo you are, you know. And the truest, noblesi- 
hearted b.ver I shall ever have. Would you want me to 
have another, papa? 

Ool V. — Yoa sweet little flatterer. You'll have the lov- 
• ers whether I will or no — and whether you will or no, for 
that matter. 



16 FOR HONOR S SAKE. 

JKosa.—Dat's jes what I'se been a tellin' her, Massa Gun- 
nel. 

Mamie. — IIusli, Rosa, — you've said enough. I'll have 
Jake close your mouth somehow — let him pick out a nice lit- 
tle trout that will just fit in. (Jake opens the Col.'s basket 
and pretends to look for one ) 

Hosa. — Don't say dat, Mi.ss. 'Spose I want his bans roun' 
my mouf! Ise 'spectable nii^j^ah, I is — (Spitefully.) I'll 
bite 'cm oif. ,; . 

Jake. — Cum, Rosie, pears loike yethink yerself a 'iistocrat. 
Yer'd better rckomember I'm wAtVe ef I am pore. An' I'd 
ruther be pore fust quality, than fust joore quality. White 
Sulphur's a hurtin' ye. It }»ut8 too much sulpbdir in yer 
deesposishun, an make8,ye,/>.e^ too white. 

Mamie — No quarrel, now Jake. — How many trout did you 
catch? But I can never believe you — I'll ask papa. 

Jake. — Yes, thet's what my Sally sed whin I axed her to 
have me — "I'll hev to ax par." Yer see Sally hez book-bree- 
din', so she says par iust^^d o' dad — which are the nat'ral 
way. ..;.,;/'..,,. 

Col. V — Don'tj ftartiJaikfi.iOn his stories, MAtnie. Jake, 
you and Rosa had better go along to the Cottages. / \u' 

Hosa. — Jjet him gwo by hisself. 1 don't walk, along* iwid 
no po' white trash. 

Jake.--Wa.], Miss Thundergnst, (handing basket), tote 
this along to Dinah, an' I woant bother ye. 

Rosa. — Go long widye — tote it yersef. I tends on qauLity 
folks, I duz. (Tosses her head defiantly.) 

Jake. So thet's yer Christun sperrit, ye black hypercrit. 
One o' these days I'll tend on ye (laughing.) I'll bury ye; 
Rn' I woan't pile more'n six inches o' sile on yer bones, so 
ye'll hev a right easy time gittin' up ter the resumrection. 
(Rosa runs on and Jake follows.) 

Col. V — Shall we follow, Mamie? I must make my»elf 
presentable. Hal may come tonight. 

Mamie. — Yes, papa, I think they must v«ome topflight. 
You go in please. I'll sit here awhile and watch for ihem. 
[Col. V. kisses her and retires. Fitzhugh enters from oppo- 
site side.] 11 • ,; 

JTitz — [Aside.] She's alone. I'll plAy'iny Jd$t oard. — 4 
[Aloud.] Miss Vincent, you seem io a tender mood. Will 
you not be merciful? 



FOA' honor's sake. y^ 

•^Mami);. — [ColcHy] I do not undergt^rid iyx^i. ,,.,f.> 

Mtz. — [Passionately.] And yet daily; yiotfi lv4ye.,§e^e hqii?; 
I admired, adored— '! ' »". •? . r,' v*/?;.. • f \ 

MamiM. — [Flising.] Mr. Fitzhugh^ lyou forget yowrselifprJ. 
Will leave you. : . ^ ., , ;, ,;., < .,.,.,«j 

ii^/^2. — iStpppinf; before her.] Yuu , niu.st jstayrr . Mm 

Mamie. — [Proudly.] 3fust, sir? . . . .,..■ 

' i^/]f3.—^[Altnoet fiercely.] Yes, must. Your honor — that 
you rate so hiirh — deniatids it. And [ ma<i^ speak— ruiust re- 
real it. VViP not a life devoted to your happiness \»rin your 
love'?' [Read that. Hands. her the forged betr(:^MM^l•3 ■ 
' Mftnde. — Wliat mean you, •ir? [Rea4».J A^ifJi ypa are^ 
'■ FiXz — Clar'-nce Merrivale. » ;/ , , -' . ? 

Mami/'. — Oh, my God ! it cannot bti; iippypii wis^i.^p kiU 
me? Why did y^u tell me? • ; ; , m : ? i> ;. i {\ .wi.,,,. 

i^^7z;-^ Because I yielded to n)y Joy#..i J bpped tt{0 wjfi\you 
urithuut revealirtg my secre.t. And noKf I cur^^ niysgifith^it 
my rash love has so wounded yod. . ■ : ; '. , 

illtrwi>.-^G>h' 'no^noi Givfe me time to thii)!?; You may 
be — an — ' 

' M73.--Imposter ! Would to heaven I vrere. I wouldnra- 
ther be scorned from your presence than lo grieve you so. 
•I<Ti<l not- show it even to your father — ;[ s,:^w his great love 
for you, and his coldness for me, and tear^jd to pain him. 

Mamie — Yes, it is his own writing. My dear,, dear father 
— no, vre must not tell him. Give m0 tirpe to thi^ik, please.— 
Tell me — your story. [She sinks downou the seat — he tries 
to aid her — but she repulses him.] 

Fitz. — I have a dim recollection of seeing yqn— your .child- 
ish beauty must have burned into my soul— 

Mamie. — [Impatiently.] Oh, the story — ijo on. 

Fitz. — 'My father iook me abroad. From London we took 
ship fo! Italy, arid — oh my father! [feigns strqng emotion] 
'why did fate rob me?- — the ship went down — and I alone — a 
little waif — was picked up by a passing vessel— an.^, adopted 
by a wealthy gentleman aboard — Mr. Fitzhugh. .|.. ^^,^\ 

Mam.>e. — It must be Fate. , . r i. 

Fitz. — Yes — it took my father's life — but gave me that 
which is dearer than life — the privilege of claiming you — ray 
beautiful — 

Mamie.— H\xt,h — speak no more — leave me. No— -stay— 
Oh, God, is this a dream? [Kneeling.] You ar^ bra|Te,_gen- 



18 FOB honok's sakb. 

erouR, — you will forget me. I cannot love you. jOh ^spare 
liiie — sparft my father I \ 

I^itz. — Forgive me, sweet angel. Rise, I heg yiou. [She 
sits.] I'll leave you to your thoughts awhile. [G )insj:.] 
Remember I ask only your luuid — your love I'll win. You 
must yield to fate— for Honor's sake. [Retiret — Col. V. en- 
ters from oppovsite side.] 

Mamie.- [Rushing and throwing herself into his arm*.] 
Oh, papa— -Dear papa 

CoL V. — Bless you, darling, you tremble— You mustn't 
sit brooding in this way Come, stroll with me awhile, 
daughter mine. [He takes her arm and leads her off.] I 
ftar that Northern knight whom your l>rother brings has 
touched the heart of my little princess [They retire— In a 
moment Hal and Tom enter in travellint; dress.] 

Hal. — Here we are at last, r(.m. Ah, there's Jake. Hul- 
lo, Jake, how'dy? How's Sally, and the younkers? And 
the Col., and Mamie, and Nelly? 

f/a^e.'— [Rushing in from side.] Hi, Mr. Hal, Tm glad ter 
see yer. They're all well — An' yer're lookin' right smar$. 
[Shaking hands.] Goramighiy! it duz me good — clean, 
plumb through. 

ITal. — Well, Jake, here's my friend, Mr. Chase You 
muot give him a wtilcome. 

2uin.— Ye.«!, Jake — and I'm glad to know yon — as I am to 
know any friend of Hsd's here— (takes his hand.) 

e/aA;«.— How'dy, Mi*. Chase. I'm powerful \i\\\<\ ler see yer. 
I 'l«w ye're one o' the right sort, ef ye are a Yank. (Releas 
es his hand — holds it up, and looks at it.) Swe yt?re, Captin, 
yer'.se got a dingnation close grip fur a city chap. 

Hal. — So he has, Jake. Tom's a f)rize gymii.ist — ^I gave 
him the wink. But what makes you think he's a Yankee? 

Jake.— {To Tom.) I sees it all over ye, Captin, But 
yei're one o' the right sort. An' most 6' the Yanks. ;i\re 
about th!e measliest critters^ — '■'■>. -ivi' 

Hal — Look out, Jak^. Tom may challenge, lyou. [Hal 
and Tom sit.) 

'Jake. — (Laughing.) Wal; I don't want ter fight no dooel 
'#ith the Capt'in. But probly he'd say the same, ef he 
see thet clock my Sally bought, uv a blue-blasted' Yankee 
pidaier. ' !l . '' 

jy^W.^Iplead'guilty to the Yankee peddlerSjJake.. )They- 



FOR HOKOR 8 SAKE. 19 

're a poor lot. But the Yankeeji are ingenious fellovrs, you 
must ndtnit. 

e/a^-e. — Yes, they kin make 'ooden nutmiegs, bass-'uod 
hams, an' clocks that woant go — an' nuthin' much else. 

l^om —That may he true, my good fellow; but they make 
them mostly ior the Southern market. No other people are 
grnen enough to buy them. 

Juke — Wal, Mnjor — I owes ye one on thet. But T reckin 
I couhi whip ye et' ye challenged me. Ye nuver yere<l how 
1 fit Gibbon over in Nawth K'rlina, did ye? 

Tom — No— hut I should be delighted to hear it. 

IIiil. — YeB, pike ahead, Jake. 

Jttke. — VVal, he lied loike blazes in a perlitikal speech, an' 
I telled him so, rijjht out in meetiii'. So he sent me a chal- 
lenge; an' hevin the chuse o' wepins, ye know, 1 sed I'd hev 
''sxcords - mounted.' 

Hal. — That's Torn, too. Jake. Sword practice is his/or^e. 

Jake — Yes, but we didn't hev no fort, ye kn^w. 'Twas a 
squar, field fight! W.il, I sed swords, mounted, at sun up 
next moriiin', over agin my r'ar pinery. Now I hrd a dref- 
ful smart ox-brute thet I'd raised up fur my private riditi'. 
Ye know we uses them critters jes ez ye duz bosses. An' a 
spur 'ud make thet or brute pitch head foremose inter the 
fus thing he cum ter, man or beast. Wal, in the morntn' I 
tuk out the cow-horn, cut a right smart stick fur a swo'd, put 
it inter a yaller bag tliet looked loike a scabbard, got out the 
ux-brute, tied a red rag »er his horns, put on my Sally's best 
kiverlet thet she hed agin we got married — all re<l an' yall*»r 
— fur a saddle, an' mos<^yed off ter the dooelin' groun'. Wal, 
Gibbon war th.tr, wuth two seconds, a doctor, an' a hull po- 
thecary store ur cuttin' tools. Soon ez he seed hovv I war 
'coutred, he 'jected ter fightiir--but I counted out the terms 
— ^'■niooids — mounted,'''' an' I telled him, ef he didn't stan' the 
fight I'd post him through the hull state fur a coward. Wul, 
finally he 'eluded ter fisfht— the second* guv the word, an' 
we put spurs ter our critters. An' Major, ye'd better b'lieve 
wheii my ox moseyed down outer his ihar — wuth horn a blow- 
in', an' kiverlit a flyin', the mar she pi'ked out buckleterwhit, 
splittin' the a'r cle.m in two — an' nuver belt up till she got 
clean inter Nawth K'riina. (Laughter.) 

^om.T— VVell, Jake, I suppose that coverte't is the flag you 
ni'ei^ii to Jive under, isleep under, and die under. 



20 FOR honor's SAKE. 

JaJ^e — Jes so — Mnjor — shore s yer T>ori). llu|!Qj^tMAr ,s 
the CuiiDf'I. (Jjldtwi- (v')l. v. — Mvm"ie follows.) '• '^,. 

Col. V-^U ii» my boy, I'm ivjoii-el t<» see you. And Tom 
— may I cnll you T»^>iM< 4-o.yfXi |i;^re„,8i»-?-rl ^jy^^ JiiO" welcome 
to Virginia, ; , / .:;-.jii .r' i,' ijr! nM.>: 'iil i i..; /.'vv . 

T»n —Thfxuk yon, Col, I shall , lore Y'rwiiff, 1 Hm.8ii,i:|e. 
./a^e.--[ Aside-.] I,k;iowe4.hi, w ir the ifii5)it sor^ ,.v..\. 
f, JUamie — [Alt<.'V .kissing Hal.] And is therp rppinTpr m^ 
little welcome, Mr., — may.I: cji|ll you , rojii xlMWh ,.l;ierf.> ?>V* f^ 
[The Col. and II.-il converse aBide.] ., ,^ \ ;,,,, /. . ,^ .,\ 

yom— Your voice will make inu.siQ x^'.jjiy ho,iyely.^^i^^^p>e. 
But is your \velcome, then, so little? ,i .., ;,. // . •.\>'.V- 

Mamie — No, not little. 1,'m delighted ;1,o,stH;,y«^lK ', (p**- 
quettishly.) There are positively no pleasant people Jj^^re 
this season — it's a delight to see anybody. ^ /.^.' 

Tom(Dubiously ) Indeed. And how. 6»v^,y.i»ivenli^vy^ied 
•the dullness? , ■ 

,.,,^ffnnU — Well, I sleep, a trreat deal— and ride every day — 
and sometimes gy out with Mis.s Bi-owne luid sister Nelly for 
wild flowers — but I hate botany—don'tyou ?— And ih^ thorns 
and bushes never leave me in peace. .. . , ^ 

Tom. — (Gravely.) The Thorns and Bushes— rold Virgin.ia 
families, I suppose. How wrong of them. Are.the yoyiVg 
men then so ill regulated down in these parts? !,, 

Mam'>e.— How charmingly absurd ! But you're clever, 
and— (turning to Ha] — giving him her hand) Hal, I'm so 
glad you've c(mie — and, (giving, the other to Tom — as Fitz- 
hugh appears on left) I'm glad you've come, too — Tom. 

Fitz — (Aside.) Curses on them. So he's her bro.ther. 
Then this game's up. But I can wait. My time'U come yet 
—you d — d pretender to immaculate virtue . , 

(Inner curtaif<,falls— rises again on the same scene — a^x^^onth 
■ rt"-^ i; I later.^ , j ,,(^,fj 

/ii^ h\ .V- '-. >>:] )i,;:jit 

.,•.,,. ScKNB-2.,y -,,,;,. |/„ A .vi«».MiT'. 

[Enter Tom and Mamie.] 

Mamie — Tom, I do not see why you should speak so ill 
of Mr. Fitzhugh, when you never saw him. In his letter 
from Richmond he apologized for his abrupt departure, say- 
ing a night's, reflection had convinced him n« was a coward 
in revealing his secret— and that, to make amends, he would 
leave me free. — Now was not that noble, Tom? I could al- 



FOR llONeR'^ SiAKE; 21 

most like 'him fi>r that. And I think you ought to be a lit- 
tle fjrntefnl to hitn. ;■ , v//-. . ,i ; . i.,;.i,i;, 
Tom. — T should nt>t:h^ive>«p<>keh so^^^Mamiie/ - ForjiJ wonld 
not liiive you less true to others in hfiiig true to me. But I 
cannot believe liis was a bnjve, sincere naturtj. Else , he 
would have revealed himself at first — or, having rcgolved to 
keep his secret, nothing should have torn ,it fron) him. — 
[They pass on — the Col., enters on one side-t—then M's« 
15r'<wne on the other, with open book] \ 

Miss B. — (Affectedly.) Ah, my dear Col., I didn't dream 
you were here, ■ , 

VoL V. — Yes? So trivial a fact were hardly worth <?r«ar/<- 
mi/, you know. . .1 

Mias B. — Now, you kiiow, Col., I should be delighted to 
dream of you. I mesn-(affect.s confusion.) 

Col. V. — (Bowing ooldly)-T-How does my little Nellie pro- 
gress in her studies. Miss Browne? ,. . 

Miss B. — Charmingly. Miss Nellie ifl ai darling But 
don't you think she mingles too. freely with your dependents? 
My dear Col., the influence of these low-bred, people upon 
her is very deleterious, I assure you. Her ^prouunciation is 
positively shocking. (Enter Jake.) 

J'ike —Good evenin', Cunnel. Good evenin' madam. 

Miss ZJ.— (Pettishly.) Fellow, I told you not to call me 
*Madam.' 

Jake. — Wal, Miss, I reckin' I shan't call ye very often. 
I'm afeared ye wouldn't come. (To Col. V.) Cunnel, thet 
brown mar — 

Col. F;— Wait, .Take, I'll go with you shortly. (To Miss 
B.) Yes, Miss Browne, I'll risk ray little daughter's associ- 
ations — trusting you to counteract them with a thorough 
training in refined English. 

Miss B — Delightful task, my dear Col. — I love to com- 
mune with our classic authors. Alas tha.t we hare no great 
Shakspeares in America. i 

Jake. — I beg yer pardin, Miss, — but the Cunnel here's 
great shakes, — pears to me. 

Miss B. — Fellow, — when I call for your assistance, you may 
serve me. (To the Col.) Yes, Col , the early writers are 
my constant companions. I l0ve to dip into the antique, 
(Jake looks inquiringly) and especially am I fond of my 
Chaucer.^ 



i^ Foft hon"or's sake. 

Jake. — (Quickly tenderintr tobacco box.) Then ihar's «uin 
durned eroofl Richmun 1 Swcot, Miss. 

MissB. — (ScoriifuVly,)- Fellow, — what mean* this impu- 
dence? ;i!l''»(i 

Jake.' — W.'il, I <;onritt^d it war raUin'' on a feller, when ye 
said yer liked ter dip., an' war tond o' yer chaw, sir. 

Miss B. — Coi., can yon tolerate such i'lsufferable vulgarity? 

(^ol. V. — ^^Hiding laughter.) You may go, Jake. And 
hereafter in Miss Browne's presence please e.scA«rfl that Vir- 
ginian brnsqu«^neHs. 

Jake. — (Going away.) All right, Gunnel, — an' I'll tri/ thet 
new braiid — Virginian — wha'd'ye call it?— but I a.lers sot 
high on Richnnnid Sweet. (Tiikes an enormous chew as lie 
retires.) 

MissB. — Thank you, Ool.'-^i^^h, your »':lughter and her 
lover are api)roaehing. (Sen'tnnen tally.) How happy they 
look! Is it not touchingly beautiful to see the affectional 
nature bud a'nd blossom? Ah, how many become engaged 
here rtt the Spring!*. Don't you think so. Col? 

Vol. V.— Y^^H., the sulpliur water does seem to qu'.cken the 
action of the he'M't — though it's recommended specially for 
the liver. 

J/iss J5— (Concealing- Her disgus't. ) What a charming 
joke! But my dear Col.' — shall you not be — lonely — after 
your daughter's marriage? 

Col V. — Indeed I shall. But Tom is a noble fellow. — 
And they'll not be nmrried until sprintr. 

3Iamte — (Ilunning to her lathei — with paj>er in hand.) 
Listen, papa. (Reads:) 

Swe'Jtly cruel, the fetters I wear, 

Ma belle Aimie : 
For, meshed in a web of beauty untold, 
,^ When heavttn is starless, and Time is' old. 

My heart shall lie chained in thy ^hihthg bdvrf ^^ 
'' Forever and aye. ' ""' f': 

That's about haii-, papa — my hair— is it not beautiful? 

Col. V — (Toying with her hair.) Yvs, Mamie, it isbiiau- 

tiful. ^ ;.. ■.. . 

Mamie. — Oh, you know I meant the versea^ToiJi itiftde 
them last night. 

'Col.V. — Tom, my boy, you ore pretty far gone. 
.'Tofh- — I only i-egret, Col., I must be so much fartherg'oile 
to-morrow —but Hal and I must bid you s;ood-by. 



FOR uonor's sakb. 23 

Col. V — Well, don't remind us of it, Tom. But yuu'll 
return to U8 Ht Christmj»s-tlme. Then in tlio spring you'll 
oome aijiiin — and Biy little bird must fly northward. (Kisses 
Mamie.) But I must leave you. Shall you outwatch the 
nightingales, as usual? Good night, my happy pair. [Th« 
Col. and Miss Browne retire — Ti>m and Mamie sit.] 

Mamie. — And are you truly happy, Tom? 

7bw.— Very, very happy. 

M<mde. — Intensely so? 

Tom. — Yes 

Mamie. — So much so that you could not be more so? 

2hm. — So much so, [|»ut?ing his arm around her waist] 
that I tremble. 

Maude. — [Lifting her head in surprise.] Tremble, Tom? 

7'o??i. — Lpst Heaven has been too kind. They pay, you 
know, one never realizes an ideal — but I — yes, dar ing, now 
that your love \* mine, I tremble — as one who has gained 
heav riin a dream — with an uii(btiiied fear of waking. 

Mamie — f)h, Tom! I tremble to liave won such love. 

7om. — I think you did n(it win it, Sweet. L was yours 
befoie I saw you — wi'lbe yoiur.s' forever. Tney sin who tell 
U8 love can die. Neither time nor death could tear your im- 
age frtmi my heart. O.ily you yourself -nay, not you could 
do it. For, could you ever drive me from your presence, £ 
shoiVtd yet loVe 6\\ in proU(i sile'nce. But let me bring your 
smiles again. See! [PrrMving fo^-th a package] here is some- 
thing the stage brought for you to-day. '"^."'^''*,'\'''.' '•' 

J/(/m/e.[ Delighted "J P\)i- me?— What is it? ' '** 

Tom — Open 1t and'sf»e. I've not seen it myself yet. 

Mamie. — [Ench.-iiited.] O Pom ! It cannot be for nie. It 
is too beuntiful. O how good of you to think ot it. And 
how did you know that if th'ei*e is one thing on earth I 'ove, 
it is a ring? And O, such a beautiful diamond, Tom! — But 
come, you must place it oU Iny finger — never to be removed 
till_lill_ 

Tom. —When, darling? ' ' 

Mamie. — Till this one is — my mother's ring — which has 
jievt'r left ifiy finger since papa ]»laced it there. 

7'oy,j._I could ask no holier trust, Minnie. But what shall 
1 have to remember y5u |»y-7^s«m6thirig ^o' remind mte^of to- 
riiglit? . . . I . •. . . -si- 

Mamie. — [Coyly.] Shall you need it? Well — [loosehifig 



24 FOft ttONOR's SAKE. 

hev hair until it fitils in fi shower around her'.] You Shall 
have a tiny lock all to yourself. Ciioose and cut it where 
you Will, . ■ : i : : • ., , « i. 

7cm.--The loveliest hair hi the world, darling. [Cuts a 
tress.] And now, ma belle Aitnie — nothing can ever sepa- 
rate us — no cruel words — no wicked deed.s. For [as they 
stand he diaws her hea(i to his heart and tosses her Ijait so 
that it falls over his shoulder] — 

Meshed in a web of beauty untold, 
When heaven is starless and Time is old, 
Thy shining hair shall my heart enfold 
Forever and aye. 

CURTAIK FALLS. 



ACT m. 

LOVE WOUNDED. 

[At Col. Vincent^s — time 8 months later. A dinuer party 
-^ Two neighbors present — Gen. M oak and Judge Vining — 
The mpartment opens by broad entrances into a handsome 
conservatory — through which the garden is seen.'\ 

Col. V — Some more brandy, Judge? 

Judge V. — [Taking some.] Thank jou. — Col., what .hare 
you in that flask there? ^ -; 

Col. V. — That is white curacoa. It's a light wine, but 
very good. Will you have some? 

Judge V. — Wei!, yes, [taking flask and filling his brandy« 
glass.] I'll water my brandy with it. [Turning to Tom ] — 
Mr Chase, we're hard headed fellows down here. We out- 
drink you Yankees — and by the Eternal ! we'll out-fight you, 
if you drive us to it. 

Co/. F!— After all. Judge, we must admit the descendants 
of the Puritans are not to be despised in battle. The best 
gentry in England, you know, were worsted at last by the 
train-bands of London and the "r."ibbledom" of Cromwell'n 
army. 

Tom. — Yes. gentlemen, I believe as strongly as any of yoa 



Fou uonor's sakk. 25 

in good blood, and that blood will win. But I tell you when 
souls art? fired, even plebian blood may throb with subhniest 
heroism. , 

Col V — Yes, Judire, I am sure of one thing — the North 
can fight — if she only had the leaders. That's our great ad- 
vantage. But we want no war, gentlemen. We must not 
delude ourselves. If the war comes, it will he a terrible 
strn; gle. And Virginia must comnian(i the peace. The vir- 
gin of her shield may not lightly touch the sword — for once 
dr;iwii, she will throw away the scabbard. 

Tom. — God bless you, Col., for those words. We want 
no WMr- but the men of the North are not cowards. 

(Jcl. V. — Yes, sincL Sututer is threatened the North feho'ws 
signs of a terrible rousing 

Gen iW — Bosh, C<)1., tdey won't fight — it's all got up, and 
belongs to that washy sort of enthusiasm promoted by their 
lecturing and spouting. 

To7n — By Heaven ! Gen., you tempt me to pray for war, 
that you Southerners who despise us might learn to re^pect 
us. For there is no better promoter of friendship than brave 
and honest fight. An'1 it may be the Union can never stand 
like a rock, till it has been cemented with blood! 

(yol. V. — But I hope, gentlemen, we may solve the prob- 
lem witliout writing it in blood. Virginia has the undoubt- 
e<l right to secede — she reserved that right and wrote it 
plainly in her ratification of the U S. Constitution. But 
Virginia loves yet the old flag — and will strive to the last to 
bind her sister states in close and honorable union. 

Gen J/.- Now you are a gentleman, Mr. Chase, and how 
can you sympathize with a pack of nigger-worshipers? — 
What is there for the North to howl about? Loot at our 
niggers. They're the happiest critters in the world. 

Tom. — Gen., the North wars against an idea. They hate 
the name and fact of slavery. Your negroes are well-fed, 
over-fed, covered from the winds and storms of Heaven. Yet 
so, too, the condition of a pig in the sty is not, in an animal 
sense, anything but good. But there comes an hour when 
the butcher steals to the stall — and the knife leaps from the 
sheath ! (Rising.) Great God, gentlemen, why should 
Heaven let such noble hearts be so deadened to this terri- 
ble enormity! It is only that which the Nortb hates, and 
which blinds her to your constitutional rights. And yet be- 



26 f; ,; , !l ; i juV, FOR hojjor's sake. 

low all that, ■Wc TiftVe the wnrrn, gein'ronR'hoarstff^if'l tlu' fesr- 
lessj^pirii, of the South; -ind should the day ever ctmie wher> 
you, need help— should fumiiie i-vt-r bliljht, oi^'fi-ver CMimDnie, 
oi a fi»ri^ijj;ii foe inVadc ! — the Novth wrll spnngllo i!i<' -.ud of 
the beiiUlitul sister whosf very ehidingR aihi'iffihll > ;uh' dt^;ir- 
er than others' virtues Genth'ineii, let us'VwiO^dvMi our se'c- 
tionat \tv\i\f (tiilil it lakes in our whole oonrntfy unii»'(i Ht»d 
iiiseparaltic — tht- freeman's' hope and pride-^'i^etv eel land o'" 
liberty!" — Gentlemen, With a love that ' *fefe(pfi in South and 
NorUi, I |)ropo.'.e — "Massnehusetts and \'VT<iinia- Vestal 
Guaiwlians of Liberty's Flame!" 

(Door opens, and in rushes Jake — breathless -^j^l^l coum 
frpni tile station.) 

t/t/A'e.— She'* busted, Gunnel ! — I beg yer pardin fer iiiter- 
ruptiii' — but I [)iked hum quicker'n a whirly-izust ehasm' a 
streak o' lightnin'. jes fer to tell ye — Sumter's tuk ! 

All — ^-nmler taken? (All rising.) 
J^^dffe K— 'Kah f'r J. ff Davis! 'Rah f'r suth'n rights! 
",['<0eii. 31. — 1 hat splits the Union. We're freeil from that 
tyranny at last! 

Jake. — Yes, ole I^eauregard Vmsted her yesterday. An' 
Linkum hez ordered out 73,000 sogers, an' called on Virgmy 
for her share. 

Col. V — God help us, then Virginia must go, too, 1 huve 
opposed 8e(!e8sion, gentlemen, with all my soul. But Vir- 
ginia can never furnish troops to coerce the South, 

Hal. — Tom, old boy, the test has come. God pity dear 
old Virginia. I know too well the odds against us. But 
now we must fight to the bitter end — not. for secession, but 
for Honor. We will fling ourselves against the grim, black 
Uiture, as the cavaliers under Rupert rushed against the grwiB, 
Mack Ironsides. Gentlemen, here's to 

J/c/mi'e. — (Rushes in with Confederate flag upraised )-- 
The Southern Confederacy! (Singing or repeating) 

"With cuiition and musket, wiili shell and petard, 
We salute the North with our Beauregard." 

(Wild enthusiasm — pat one another on the back.) Gentle- 
luyu, I kiss tlu! banner my own hands in love have wrought. 
Sa ute ye all the "Bonnie Blue Flag." With right hand on 
hei.rt, raise high your glasses, and pledge allegiance to — (ail 
rai'-e glasses but Tom.) T.)m, you'll <lrink my pledge V 
Tom. — (Tenderly but heroically.) Mamie, to you I would 



FOR honor's sake. 27 

pledge a thousand lives, were they inifie it> irivf I" 11 pledge 
the beantitul South in the Union But i-ur cwinuiy cannot 
tear out lier very heart — thf ^vann, thi-ol»hing S nth — and 
cast It from her. Do not ask the ple-.'gt' of ini-, Maini«^, dar- 
ling— I would not ask it of you. 

Mamte — Then call me not your d.iriini: - 1 drmand tlra 
you drink the pledge. (Toni hesitJitiDg'V, — partly raises gl gs 
—lets it fall ) ' • , ' 

JIainie — For niy sake, Tom, (Tbrows herself on her 
knei s ) Tom, dhrling, Pli in.tKe y u tnv hero — my souPs 
idol — I'll give you the ti-uest ioVe of a wtrin, S lUlhern heart. 
For my sake, Tom, ilariiii>; (Pom kneels kisses her hand 
— half raises glass —then drops it with deti niiinatioii.) 

7bm.— Great God, M imiH, s|»;ire me! Y -u rend my soul! 
Have you no thought of ?«y Itouoi-? 

JIaniie. — (Starting up wihlly — Torn remains kneeling.) 
Yes, and of mine. My honor will f>il) d me to wed a man 
who will n«^t fight for ViriCini i. Atrd I soora the man who 
is her foe. ('i'oin'H ..1 »ss tails.) Mr-. Chase, hi^reafter we are 
not even friends — hut enemies [ fom drops his he id on his 
knees — ijuivers with emotion.] 

7>)r,<. — [Appealingly ] Mamie, God fn-give you for tread- 
ing on a he:irt. 

Mamie. — [Enraged.] Yes, I would trample on a coward's 
heart. 

7b//(.[l{isiiig proud y ] Ko, not a coward's. 

Hal --Don't say coward's, Miimie. 

Torn. — Time will defend me. [Folds his arms ] 

Murn'te. — Yes, time will cure your woumls. Go, choose a 
bride trom your milkficed, watery-eyed maidens of the 
North You couM never mate with Southern blood. I 
scorn you! [ Toin bows his head on his breast — and writhes 
with feeling.] 

[Uuriaiu falls — rses immediately on same scene — same apart- 
ment as befu'e - time next morning.] 



(Enter Tom and Ilai. Tom dressed for travelling — Hal 
in grey — inilitarv caj), with havelock ) 

H<d. — We.H, Tom, old boy It's har<l to part in this way. 

Tmn. — Yes, Hal. Have you seen Mamie? She sent me 
word to meet her here? 

Hal. — Yes. Slie'iljoin you in a few minutes. 



28 FOR HONOR S SAKE. 

Tom. — Can it be — mo, no. 
.,, JIal.—lSo, ihe'll not relent, Tom. lean see how your 
'sense of honor drfiws you to the other side — hm to her no 
m.in can be a hero who dwes not wear Carolina's .c»>ck:i(le. — 
And yet she lovei yon, Tom. , 

Torn. — Wouhl to God I were sure of that, Hal, — that it i« 
only the maddening excitement of the hoar. , 

jial, — Ay — it is maddening, Tom. It is ghjrious.'^^If the 
Star-Spangled Banner inspires you fellows up tht-re as Dixie 
does us — we'll liave a grand old fio^ht. Only yesterday tlie 
Sumter news — to day my troop musters. 

(Enter Jake — dressed as a trooper.) 

Jake. — Yes, Cap'n Tom, an' we'll pick off the Yanks loike 
turkeys at a shootm' match, I hope ye'U send down Yanks 
enuff to make it lively fer us, Cap'n lorn. We want a little 
lively sliootin' now tlie game's called. 

To7n. — I won't send ihem, Jake, 1\\ come. 

JiriA-g.— Thet's the word, Cap'n Tom. But I'm -afeared 
thar's not many o' thet sor up thar. I reckin the heft on 'em 
'11 pike over inter Canada, to live along wuth the nigs tliey- 
've run over thar. 

Hal. — No, Jake, they'll give us work enough to do. (To 
Tom.) I'm not superstitious, Tom — and I wouldn't lose this 
grand baptism of blood for all it may cost, — but I some- 
how feel I shall never see the end of this war, — and I only 
hope that I may fall lending a cavalry charge. 

7bm. — Don't say that, Hal. I may well pray for it — but 
not you. 

JIal. — Should Mamie ever be left — will you — protect her? 

To7n. — She scorns me, Hal. 

Hal- — Yes, but suffering softens the heart--and she loves 
you even now. (Turning to Jake.) Jake, we swear war to 
the death against every Yank but Tom, here. Kemember — 
if the fortune of war ever gives you a chance — befriend him 
— for my sake. We'll say good bye outside, Tom. 

Jake. — [Stepping up and taking Tom's hand.] Yes, Cap'n, 
this yere light's got ter be tit out. But yer're one o' the 
right sort, ef ye ar a Yank. An' if ole Jake uver gits the 
chance — I swar by the livi!)' God, he'll guv ye his life, ef ye 
need it, fer Cap'n Hal's sake, — an' leetle Mamie's. [Jake 
goes out — Mamie enters — they bow coldly.] 

Mamie. — Hal tells me you are going., 



Tom.— Ye8. Vt:',,.)/] i,,i, :. . , (1:7/ , 'v 

Mamie. — I have — a word-r-to 8a,j ^p ypu. , , 
7bm,— If you cuispd me, I think /youi;,]vpiojp^, would still be 
music in my ears. 0, Mamie, mus^t it be? ,.',( T .• , Vr 
AJamie. — V\ e must never me^t agAin. ; , ,'t ' ' fi 

Tom.. — ^Yes, I wan too happy, I will not , a^k, you to be 
merciful. la. time I hope.vye .may,bol,h be just. , And I have 
MO harsh word to say. — (P.assio»tely.) But ihjd bolt of ,iate 
has shattered Hiy heart Throiigh all my student years 1 
felt an unvioicesd lougir^g that was an insp^^ration-; I toiWd- — 
not for wealth — not for fame — but to make myself a worthy 
offering to tlie fair creature of my dreams., All^these years 
I loved a faultless woman who answere*^ i^^efy crs^ving of* my 
soul tor the beautiful. , , n 7 

Mamie. — (In surpriie.) You'loved, [ 

Tbm. — One I had never seen l?ut in my, ^isibn^. iTorviiei' 
Bake I sougfit to mak« myself skilled in every art — ^hat 1 
might interpret to myselt every phase of her beingj-ahswer 
its every longing. VVhen I saw you that all top brief (Com- 
mencement-day— youv effulgent beauty — your grace of mo- 
tion — marked- you as the true Goddess. X trembled, with 
the great hope that filled my soul. It grew— 7it strengthen- 
ed — vuow it dies. O God, it is hard. (B(j>t^'S his head.) '^ _ 
Mamie — (Softly) Toin? (He looks \ip-rra bugle ish^'ard 
— It turns the current of ht'r thought— sh^'^pepkji* coldly) 
Have you finished ? Your speech is very pretty— pray, re- 
hearse it to some pale-faced Northern girl, rid you'hear 
that bugle? — It calls brave men to fight — if you Northerners 
will give them any work. My brpjLher's company musters 

7(??7i— Good bye, Mamie.,,; ,,,[, .,;,-, _'_ j , j , , 

Mamie. — ^)Sottly.) Hal said he.wante^ a Ueuiepant in his 
company. i , • 

lorn — Mamie, good-bye. (Extending his hand ) , 

Mamie. — Here is yoi^r ring. , ■ 

y'om. — Keep it Mamie. (Looking again.) That's your 
mother's ring. 

Mamie. — (In fear.) O my sainted mother — whiat can this 
omen forebode? 

Tom — You said mine should not come off till your moth- 
er's did, you know. 
,\ Mamie. — Well, here is yours. 



7V>m.— Will you not keep it? 7 -.mi'V^ 

Tom. — It riia^ coiii^'til 'y(MM«'» thitlk bf mie rmvr hiid tlieii. 

Jfami'e. — I have no '^i^h ever tb .4^e Wr think of von agjui*. 
[HoldinjT the ring as if |t8 toiieh cOnld "sAfl her fi ig'-r ] 

^o;^,(Bi't'terly.) Tiitit admits of no »n!*wt!r, (Takiog the 
ring, he /"ropi^ it on^'theflbor, and erusHel^ it tlivdi-r Iiin loot.) 
^^ Mamie. — (linpulsively') Oh! vvhat bave you done? You 
naVe <^estroyed it— my VyeknLituI ring. '■• 

Tom -—(Tend'ei-'ly— stepping toAVard her— ^and WHiwg oat 
Vi's ^la'uds,) Mhnife? 

Jfami«.[An4rily.] Tfh not 8f<e;Vk to trlie. Yon 'h«Ve curbed 
ray life. You wcmld herd with'eowards. Go, joiii your Lin- 
coln hirelings. Your very prenence h ill omened. G-^o! 
[In^eriouBJy.] . ■•'-'* i \ . ■ 

Torn. — G<)d 'for'giy^'ybu, Mamie. I could not ask your 
, hand in these ti^oubldiis times — but y(»u need not scorn my 
loye. You mieht give all your loVe— your every heart-throb 
loi your beautiful South— 'Uid T \«-<iuld iiot say y«iu nay. Can 
xou then treat me as a poltroon because I refuse to slay Hon- 
or tor' Loye? I' go to figfht fer a greater than State — a great- 
er tnkh section — an uiuiivided country. And when you hear 
rny name branded as a coward's — then scorn — ay hatk me. 
—T'lt' is not your heart sjjeaks — but 'Fate. I go — farewell — 
ftrewell ! [He rhshes out] ■ 

, ' -^>fa?me.— -7[Slife starts toward the door — hesita'es— starts 
^a»aih— then clasps her haiids, her head drooping] Ami 
..'cruel — or :itn I mad ! O'! spirit of my sainted mother — g'uule 
me aright — I have sadrificed tlie truest, bravest he;irt evergi-v- 
en into woman's keeping. But, O! mother— wou'd yo«lb*ve 
your daughter do less for the beauliful Soli th that y «u,'Hoo, 
loved? Oh, iny God, tht^iii is hih' ring— briiken lik^^ my 
heart! ishe stoops — picks it up — places it in her-bosotniT 

[Hal e.iters.] ^'' ^. ; A: ho. . ,. |/ ,,;v -• 

. Hal — l^e is gone, Mamie. Can it"b6 that Tom aWd')Vnuat 
n'giit — and not under the same flag! ''Can 'H(')rtor be two- 
It must be 
hip nuist 
>vitliHr ni th«' blast of War — and, Mamie— so must Love. 

Mamie. — Y<s, Hal, l.e is true — sh.'ili we be lefjsso? Love 



faced, and summon friends to opposing ranks? I' 
BO — for T<)in is no h^Ss true than L -But Friends 
>vitliHr ni th«' blast of War — and, Mamie— -so must J 
Matme. — Y<s, Hal, l.e is true — sh.ali we be letjss 
does n« t wither — it is dt-ad. I build to-day a' ilOW ; 
ou it strew the ashes of my 'heart: My \n*^JA^y b^peV, my 



FOR honor's SAKB. 31 

prayers—all sliiill be given to, ,the SQUthern c^use. , It shall 
be my reliifioh — swt'ct as my hope rtf beaVen,' ' flal, sweat to 
me :in oatl^ . Draw Y<>ur »word— ""." '',';'• '''''y ''^'■' . ^'k^ 
, J?(;//.~iU.ilr draws 8word~tliie'n retiirnVil.'] ' Siiater, you 
tretiilde. Li-t U* be brave — we must face the inevitable. 

Matnie — Yt-s, Hal — I iiot only tace it — I smile on it — ^t 
pr»'ft. it — I embrace it. Brother, this is our mother's rinjij. 
Dijaw yt.ui sword, and divide ij;. [ll;il obeys,^ ' .Take Vhis, 
and viiard it as your heart's blolod. ' '' '• 

Hill- -It shall l)e a sacred talisman. , -' ' ; ' ■ ■! 

Mamie. — Hal, we SontliHrn women must sliari^ in ih^ istrv^- 
gle. Else Wjt! 4-uv not we<'f> f^r the fallen — we f.o.uld not 
mate with ^mr .'r<;t.uriiing heijo'es. So we'll wear our sweetes^t 
smiles when the barhs nf war have transfiie'd the soot.' ' ' . 

//a/. -O God of Battles! ; caept ^ sddier's thanks: '^FHii 
wo'nien of , the South will shame her .soldier* ! 

Mamie. — Krotber, to day I wed the Southern cause, l^heh 
km el with me, and by our mother's ring and her sacred mem- 
ory —swear to, be true to Viroj ua. And I too swear:-^ril 
toil like a slaye — I'll buy, no silks — I'll stli my jewels — and 
no man's l(»ve shall touch m}- heart, till the Soutli Jtands in 
the blaze <jf victory, or lies crushed in a ruin that shall enno- 
ble defeat. „....,,. - ! 
(Curtain fajls-^^eiic; changes— ^ci^r.tain' rifees on an eVeain^ 
scene in Tor'ii's Horned) 

, Scene 2. 
{^At Tojii's hom.e present T' nis father — his mother — 9.nd 
.'Ruth,— the orpka>i rhild of, Mr. i 'hase''s old friend, and his 
adi'pted daaqhter—Mrs, b > and Ruth at table —Mr. C r6((d- 

"• \ M"',' . -•; • ! . ; ,^,. ,., J , .;;.,*!, I i ♦y 

: ,Tif'/jJ> :■. II V , ■ .. ,■ !./i, yi.i'i MVo! i'Jil WOJia .' ■ "t^MUilih 

Mrs. (J — I wish Tom would come. . '«"'""J 

... Mr, C — I wish to (TO(i lie had T\ever ejitangled nims'elf 
f,with the ^^aristocnfcj/ ff yirginiq.''^ (Sarcastically — rises.) 

., Mrs. (\ — YeSj^es. ^,<PvJ^ ^V?P *»'"'?:'"'' '^^* ^'^^ doesn't 
he come? - , * ^ ■.-■''• ^ ' . 

,l-,^'^i/t — Tom may stay.-. Have vou not thouglit of that? 

,;i,;.^/»i ^C.-r-Wliat? JViV boy sell, his l)onor for a sickly affec- 
tiojA?, ■ Xh.ei? ril give j?<j/ lite, if ueeiV be, in expiation of hjs 
*W<./I/{ii»mot tu.o oid tu lii'ht — and Tom orl Juustgo to the 

-nmiS f>dj djiw ip ,Jt.tjiuuiJ i: 'to oiKld yilj -(^ bxiMbhfcat 



32 FOR HONOR S SAKE. 

pake, tiike back your words. ; ,, . '• 

, ,i?Mi/* r-Yi»s^ Honor is sw.^et^but tojrfe 'rri^yj^o' pyfeefl^f'. 
Tom Ipves thai Virginia girl — nnd if he conies bapk he imiPt 
live a luveit^gs life. And it must be terrible to go through 
life^ith a,\vith^red he;^rt . ., . _' 

Mr. <7"— [tTurning flyrqely to Ruth.] Girl,sj)eak ni'rtio^eJ 
Honor 18 tlie heart's core That should be sOund thodgti tfib 
heart wither. You're unworthy your brave father-- my, dear 
old, friend — who chose to leave you a helpless waif while he 
|f,en|, down with his sinking ship for Honor's snke. 
y^.Mnth —Do i;ot 83} I am imwoithy liim I d H not ppeak 
for mjseH, but foi Tom. 1 iJiiiiK,!, too^couldsuffer unflinch- 
ingly ^^^ Honor 8 sake. , . ' 

Mr. 0. — Yes, yes — forgive me. You are a brave girl — 
W^orrthy your father— and wortliy a noble man's love. I wish 
iq , God Tom — By heaven, if he stays svith that Southern 
gi^'l, I shall curse my boy! 

I,,,^r§,,p. — [Appealingly.] D spare him. He is my son — 
my <1ei^r — nuble son. And he will never merit your curie. 
[Kising] My mother's heart tells me he will fight under thte 
Union fl:ig [ I'om enters as she utters the last words— in 
Union blue, and wearing a Lieutenant's straps.] . ''■'''" '''' 

Tom — Bless you, mother, for yur words. They w'bu'ld 
shame me did I not wear the army blue. [He kisses his mo- 
ther—she Bobs ] I ; ' . 

Mrs' C — O my boy, my' brave darling. 
\^^ Tom. — [Giving his hand to his father ] One of must, go, 
father — and it were better I, ycui know. Do my veins carry 
any fighting blood, think you, father — or has it been watered 
with tears of philanthropy? [He greets Ruth — she must 
throughout show her love for, Tom by her ev.dent attempt 
tpjude it.] 

, .^Mr. 0. — Yes, Tom —I know yoii always thought me fanat- 
ical. But I tell you when we fanatics fight, it is the wild 
beast at bay. — Go<i bless you, my boy. I d d you injustice. 
[Sarcastically.] I feared your /Southern beauty 

7<)m.— Father, name her not — I command you — but with 
reispect. We are pr rted — but her name is sacred. — [Taking 
his mother's hands.] Mother, you know your boy's heart — 
and you will know whether I go to the war as a giddy youth, 
maddened by the blare of a trumpet, or with the heart* 



FOK uonor's sake. 33 

thrill of the patriot. Life holds nothinjL; (l«ar to me now — 
but you — and my soldier'a honor. [Hy -bows lips head a 
moment on his mother'^ shoulder — while she caresses him.] 

Tom. — [looking up.] Where are little May and Minnie? 
Oh. I forj^et — you did not expect me. 

Mrs. U. — Yes, it is now midnight, you know. They sat 
up lill their eyes were heavy. But we yfere not sure— you 
know — when — you were coming. But they have watched 
for " brother Tom " every night— and prayed f9r; you. Oh, 
my boy ! (She falls on his shoulder.) 

Tbm.— (Tenderly ) Mother — it is hard, I know. But • 
you'll be hrave, won't you? 

Mrs C. — Yes, Tom — 1 could be nothing else with such a 
son — O God, help me! 

Tom — (Cheerily.) That's a good mother— the kind, good 
mother of old. And 1 want you to he brave and strong to- 
morrow. " I'm off to-morrow for the war.'' (Mrs. C. sobs 
aloud.) 

Mr. C. — (Starting.) So soon, my boy? But that's the 
true soldier-spirit. And those_^e/i(/ir down there ■ 

Tom — Don't be quite so ral)i<l, father. I fight against 
them— but 1 know that the South —mistaken as she is — 
counts as many true, hrave hearts as the North. 

Mrs. C. — Yes, Tom, but why dojij't they free the slaves? — 
then we should have no war. 

Zbm. — Yes, mother, bui after all we make war not to free 
the slaves--but to save the Union. 

Mr. O. — (Breaking in fiercely.) I tell you, my boy, the 
monster cf human slavery must be throttle*!. I do not hate 
the /South — but I hate that cursed barbarisru. — Up stairs 
your little sisters are sleeping. Ev*-ry night when I come 
home they meet me at the gate. Their prattle is to their 
old father the sweetest music in the world — their caresses 
seem to me like the clinging arms of atiLjels. Now, if when 
I came home to-night, your mother had met me with blanched 
face — and said— " They are gone, stolen from us. Some 
cruel men— John C. Calhoun and Henry Clay — have taken 
them South — have sold them into slavery.'' — what do you 
think I would do? (Fiercely) I'll tell you. I'd follow 
those men ."^outh — to the gates of hell — ay, into hell itself — 
and there I'd cram the red-hot coals down their damned in- 
fernal throats! (He leaves the room abruptly.) 

Mra. C— Don't think hard of him, Tom. The thoaght 



34 FOR HONOR S SAKE. 

of slavery maddens him. But he is a true, tender father to 
U8 all You will think kindly of hun, won't you, Tom? 

Tom. — Indeed I w ll. mother. I know the tenderness that 
lies back of all ]Lhat severity. And I can look kindly on his 
excesses — as Ido on those of the South against which he 
rageh. 

Ruth — T think T uuderstand you, Tom. You fight for 
union — b'l e\iog that as one strong, grand nation, we shall 
best Serve tlie waiting Future. But must not slavery die? 

Tom. — ^Time will tell. But 1 believe in tny heart it cannot 
live long now And slavery's death means the nation's life. 

Mrs (\ — I'll leave you a while — when I have so>)thed 
your t.ither, I will come back and give you — perhaps my last 
— good-iiiglit kiss. (She retires.) 

Jiut/i. —iJixu I aid you any. Tom? 

T<<m. — No, liuth, you cannot aid rne. Oh, my God, no 
one can aid me now Ruth, you liave been to me a dear, 
true sister (He sits on a stool at her feet, and lays his 
hea<l on her knee.) Let me ftel the touch of your soft, cool 
hand as of old It may lighten iny crushed brain — I could 
not tell even my moilu*r all — I would not make her suffer so. 

(Hull) clasps her hands to hei own head as if to cam her 
raging thoughts.) 

7'ojn, — (liaising his head in surprise.) You shrink from 
me! Will you not eoothe your hurt play-fellow as in by- 
gone years? Or have you lost the old-time affection ? 

(She strokes his forehead.) 

liuth. — No, Tom, no — I shall always be your faithful, af- 
fectionate — sister. 

Tom. — (Taking her hands ) Youi' hands 'are cold, an^ 
they treinb'e. You are not ill? 

Jiuth — No, no — (Passionately.) Tom, this is all 8|» 
terrible ! , , 

Tom. — (J..ooking up.) Ruth, it cannot be my sufferinfij 
pains you so. 

Ruth. — (Almost fiercely) No, no! But your mothers 
heart will break — O tliis cruel war! 

Tom —Yes. I cannot tell my moth.er. Nor must you, 
Ruth. O do not think nie weak, if I confide to you, my 
childhood's friend, that my he;'rt is broken. (Half breaking 
down.) I loved her so ! 

Ruth. — (Firmly — stt-oking his hair.) Poor l)oy, poor boy, 
I pity yoUTTraud her. Remember she must sufl^r, Tom. , 



FOR honor's sake. 3S 

Tom — Perhaps so. I could, almost hope so. And yet 
Ruth — she scorned me, ^^ ... , 

Rath.—{^'wvcii\y.) Scorned you? Scorned you? (Kii- 
uiii.) And you love her Ptill! (Indignantly.) Toni, I have 
p'urtured her an angel — but you make me — no, I will not 
hate^ for your sake. [Softly ] O Tom, forgive me I am 
wild to-night. And you are rigiit — ns you always were — love 
that IS trUH will suffer to the end — and never hates. 

Tom — Huth, yt)U have aided me. Your words ^ire true 
and strong. My own dear sister; I kn -w your love could 
not have changed sincM we* played and studied together. 
[Kisses her lorehea<l ] But you shudder. I tear you are ill. 
Shall I call mother? 

R'lth. — No, no — it is some draught. The night a r — is 
cldll [Shuddering.] i\'\\\V\ 

Mrs. C — [As she enters.] Yes, the room is chilly. [.'Vs- 
suming cheerfulness.] AikI I just rememh r that I am still 
commander here, Tom, and [ am going to issue a special or- 
der — that you go to bed at on(;e. , We'll wake you when you 
wish,, but now you must try lo sleep. I did not notice i'OW 
worn you looked. 

I'om. — Well, mother, I'll be a good boy to-night, and obey 
your last order. Hut you must wake me at daylight. 

3Irs. C. — [Tenderly.] You'll tin<i you room just as when 
you slept in it last. I keep it fi>r you alone, Tom. — Oh, 
Heaven, why cannot mothers keep their sons? 

To^n. — M other, give me your blessing before I sleep. [He 
kneels before her] 

Mrs. C — [Keeling — her hands on his head — her eyes rais- 
ed.] " Heavenly Father — bless my boy !" 

(They rise — lOm kisses his mothrr.) Good-night, mother. 

(Ruth lias placed a lamp on th^^ table.) 

T' m — Good-night, sister. [Kisses her — then his m t ler 
again— an<l retires ] 

Mrs. C. — (Sobbing on Ruth's neck.) You must comfort 
me. Ruth He is so good, so brave, so noble. — O! how cari 
I endure the parting? 

Rnth.- [Tenderly.] Yes, I will comfort you. But you 
tnust ri'st — 'or his sake. [Leads her to door on side. Re- 
turning to centre she breaks out passionately.] Mereiful 
Heaven! do not lay too great burdens ujion me. I have 
known ^orrow before. When my father and mother went 
dowu in that'wild storm, tbe world was very dark. But I 



36 FOR honor's sake. 

w^sts a little child who did not know my loss — -and at length 
the world grew bright with love and a rashly struggling 
ho\ie. Now — O God! — tlv^ \8 greater than I can bear, 
[Starting up.] 1 will go reserve in hospital. 1 aread war 
— but perhaps I can help tlie cause he loves. ' And God help 
m6 to hide my love ! '' ' '• ' 

' CtTUTlW FALLS. '.'''- 

; ■ • ■ ' -^ 11 1 w • • 

Hii'J y, 111 \v,\,\\, «>;.,. !!./ ,llj|)Il- -M»\ 

i>liu>«> I. ; i»(-!>! I/;-*!' M ■//'.> vl/! .jjiioij^i Imi> 

•ACT IV. 
LOVE TRIED. i.o^ j iiM , 

(.4 wood'SC^ne near battleground — in front ^of stdgt, so 
that \ohenscenc& are drawn the moon-lit battle field is exposed 
— enter Fitzkugh hnd Marks.) 

Fitz. — Old boy, here's the sum in good solid gold. You 
won't need a mule for sparse while you have that. But you 
charge a miglity high price for shooting a man that drum* 
med you out of camp. 

Marks —y^ aW^ I didn't like the job, and I'd never took it, 
if Maj. Vincent hadn't abused me. I hink of drumming a 
gentleman out of camp for gambling! The Confederacy , is 
pretty low down when they must do thr-t. But that settlt^d 
it--so I put on 'the gray' and went into the flght 

Fitz. — And had the satisfaction of putting a bullet. into 
biin, and doing |me a good turn — for which I pay you h'^nd- 
somely. 

Maiks. — Yes, you've paid me what you promised — 'cord- 
ing to agreement — and now I might as well tell you — I did* 
'ijt shoot him. 

Fitz — [Drawing revolver.] Curse you for a coward. — 
You've put a game on me. 

Marks.— [Leveling his revolver at the same instant.] Go 
slow, Fitz — go slo»v. No, I didn't shoot — I didn't need to. 
[They lower pistols.] The Yanks charged us like a pack of 
devils! Maj, Vincent fought like a tiger — and dropped, 
riddied with bullets. I was sort o' glad it saved me thejob. 
It was just in this valley here. 

Fitz. — Well, it's all right, if he'sidead. But I'v* got re- 



Foit" ITOTfioR's SAKE. ^^ 

ventre, and a free swing for the girl to boot. See here, 
Marks — the field is held by Union troop^s — and I'll give an 
extra hundred in gold if we tind the body. I want to get 
his ])aper8 and keepsakes, and leave no mark to identify him. 

J/z/r/-*'. — We must look mighty sharp. There ar^ squads 
all over the field yonder, picking up the wounded, 

I^ltz — [Confidentially] See here, Marks, wf* must get 
his papers; and your skill with the pen will help me carry 
out a lictle scheme I've got in mind. I'll be cursed if I don't 
liave that girl. Help me win her, and I'll give you five hun- 
dred — a thousand — anything you ask. 

Markn. — How the deuce can you get the girl?— she won't 
marry you 

Fitz. — Don't be so sure. SV>e mu.st be broken in spirit 
now. Her father Avas crippled in the war— his property is 
gone, everything given to the Confederacy. Her brother is 
dead — and I — well, Marks, next month I skin another contract 
out of the Confederacy that'll make me rich for life. So, if 
I can't win the girl fair, I'm going to capture her, and run 
the blockade for Euroue. (Marks gives an incredulous whis- 
tle.) Yes — Tve written .m letKr-it's here in my pocket — 
[slai'ping brenf.t pocket] that I want you todelivir; and one 
month ircm to 0!iy I'll h:ive as handsome a } acht as ever 
floated off Col. Vincent's plantation. Then I'll give her a 
last chance to take me — and if she says no, then I'll take her 
— d'ye see? [Hunches Marks in the side — they laugh and 
pass on — Enter Ruth, with lantern ] 

Ruth. — Yes, yes. He may be only wounded. I must be 
calm for his sake. While the guard are searching the field 
yonder, I'll look through this valley. Here they say his 
regiment did their bravest fighting; an<I I know Tom will lie 
in the front, wlwre the dead are thickest. 

(She passes on,} 

[The front woodland scene is drawn to side, exposing the 
battle-ground, river, tents, and camp fires, in the distance. 
Hal is lying mortally wounded, his head resting on a knap- 
sack. Tom lies near, weak with loss of blood, an artery cut 
by a ball, his arm bound with a handkerchief The fiield 
around is covered with the debris of battle.] 

7bm.— (Flalf rising — holding Hal's hand) It beats ! — no 
— yes, yes! But, oh God, how weak. (Stroking his fore- 
head.) Hal, poor boy! poor boy! We little ihought to 
meet bo! (Putting hand to his own forehead ) How bless- 



3S FOS honor's 8A.KR. 

e4 is tbil night ^ir, after lying in that broiling sun ! But, oh 
Heaven, this thirst will kill me! (Looks around — finds a 
canteen near.] Ah, perhap«j ther« is waier ! [Mannijes to 
reach it.] Yes, yes — thank Goij. [Goes to taste it.] So 
Uttle? [Drops it — then raises it again, but resist.^.] No, 
no ! [Pours out a little and moistens IlaTs lips. Hal re- 
yives.] [He opens his eyes! It is I,JHal — Tom. O — h, 
speak to me, speak to me ! 

Hal. — [F'aintly.) Tom — Fm glad you've come. 

Torn. — Thank God ! you know me. [Holds canteen to his 
lips.] Drink more, Hal. There's plenty And they'll come 
tor us soon, now. 

Hal. — [Drinks.]Come for us? — Yes, now I remember, — 
Did we win the day? 

Ti>m. — No, Hal, the Union tr.»ops hold the field. 

^./.— rid I— fight well — old boy? 

Tom. — You fought like a lion, as I knew y«,u would. 

Hal. — Then it's all right, Tom. We all know now that 
trie North will conquer at last. And ever since old Stone- 
waH went over the river, we've been fighting oniy/<?r Hon- 
or s i>ake. 

Tom. — I fought against Jackson, Hal, but we are all 
Americans, after all, and I can honor his couratre, and gen- 
ius, and devotion, as though I wore the gray. So I give you 
my hand, old friend, and say with all my heart —God bless 
old Stonewall ! 

Hal. — (Softly.) God has blessed him. (After a pause.) 
Tom, I've been dreaming of my mother, and M.unie. Yi'S, 
Tom. Maitiie loves you still — has always loved you. Her 
pride conquered, dear girl. 

Tom. — Hal, don't talk more now, you are too weak. And I 
am not strong enough to talk of her. For Mamie's sake, 
and mine, try to sleep. If you live I shall dare to hope. 

Hal. — (Weakly and drowsily ) Yes — Tom, I'll — try— to 
sleep — good-- 

Torn^ — (After a pause.) Yes, it is sleep, not, de:itli, tliaiik 
God! He niiist be chill. (Looks around — reaches for a 
Union coat lying ne.ir — is too weak to lift it.) Heavens, 
how weak I .iin ! — Did I lose so mucli bloi)d ! (D.;ig-i the 
coat toward hin).) Poor boy ! he will not scorn tlie Union 
blue now. (Struggles to throw the co;it over Mai — tlie ef- 
fort opens the artery, anew.) Oh! Great God^ — 1 bleed 



KOR honor's SAKK. 0# 

again. (Seeks to tijjhteii the band round his left arm.) Oh, 
he.iveri — do not let me- die! (He faints,) 

[Enter Filzlingh and Marks.] 

Marks. — (Step* forward so as to lo()k at Ilal ) Here h^' 
i^i, Fitz But ye'd belter be lirely. Dl stand guard over in 
those trees, ((xoes out.) 

Fitz — (Takes keepsakes from Hal's pocket— thrusts them 
into his own pocjknt — the same where he had placed the let- 
ter before alluded to.) Ha! Here's a locket on his bosom! 
This may be the very thing that wins my proud Beauty. 
(Ilal rousfs — Fitz starts back in fright — ;lrops the letter, 
which Hal clutclies. ) 

//<;/.— What is it, Tom? 

Fitz. — D--n you, are you alive yet? That makes my re- 
venge the sweeter 

Hal. — What do you mean?— I never harmed — 1 do not — 
know you. 

Fitz. — Wnllkwow you, Hi^l Vincent, curse you! You 
abused me once— and my Aa^e for yo« is strong as my love 
for your sister — who sh.all marry me, or be forever dishonor- 
ed. Now (sarcastically) l-t your cursed Honor writhe! 

Hai. — (Struggling to rise ) Villain, leave 

Fdz. — ¥\r9.l III lie merciful — and put you out of your 
tnisery. (Draws a pistol.) No, that may bring the guard. 
(Returns it, and draws a dagger. Tom, lying near, has re- 
vived — the truth dawns on nim that Hal is in danger — He 
has strength to draw his swor*].) 

Hal. — Oh — Tom — Tom — help ! 

Tom — (f.eans over Hal — guanls him.) Fiend, off! 

Fitz. — First I'll send him to Hell, and you with him. (Tom 
parries thrusts so that Fit/Juigh cannot touch either of them ) 
A tliousaiid devils! Worsted by a dead mm! (Picks up a 
mu>ket with fixed bayonet lying a little distant.) Now die! 

(Iliith rushes in between them.) 

liath. — Now live! You d.are not harm him. Guard, ho! 
(Fitz ru.'^hes off ) Tom, dear Tom. Thank Ood I have found 
you. Ai-e you much hurt? (She sinks beside him — Tom's 
head falls over on her knee.) ' 

Tom. — l»uth — God l)less you — I bleed again — thCj artery 
— bind — [H>- faints — Ruth binds his arm,] 

Ruth — [Holding him and stroking his hair.] Tom, dear 
Tom — wnat can this mean? It is all so terrible! Oh, 



40 rOK^HONOR^S SAKE. 

my darlincr, speak to nie-r-you must not die — no, no, you 
must not die. i 

Hal. — [Faintly but excited ]You know him, and you love 
him — ■— 

/]?*/?//.— -[Turning in surprise — then answeiing , fiercely.] 
Yes, I love liim ! Oh, Tom, di-ar, dear Tom. [Kisses his 
face.] Oil, when will tiie guard return? 

Hal. — Who — are you? — You have — no — right — to love 
him 

Bath. — [Fiercely.] No right — no right?— Oh God help me 
— I will love him. And who are you — that you d.ire to say 
I must not? 

Hal. — Tell me — oh tell me — who you are. Tom cannot 
he ialse — and he cannot — so soon — have f< rgotten her. — ^He 
loved — my sister. 

Jliith. — Oh my God — then you — are Hal Vincent ! [Strug- 
gling to cairn herself.] And I — I am Tom's sister — his sister 
Ruth — he must have spoken o/ me. 

Hal.~Y (.'», yes. Thank God. Tom is true. Oh curse 
that villain^ — he said he loved her — curse him —curse hira! 
[Throws oui his hand, still clutchinj: papt-r.] Yes, there's a 

paper he diopped — Head — It may identify 

1 Hut/i. — [Holding it ner lantern, I'eads] : 

Capt M. — One month from to-day have the yacht oft' Col. 
Vincent's plantation. E.xjiect a lady passenger. The game 
is called at last. Yours, F. 

Hal. — Good God, that's my father's place. It must be 
some base i)lot. Oh, my mother, must your boy die thus, 
and Mamie in danger! [Beset'chmgly to Ruth.] Oh, Tom 
will live — he will save her. Tell him — give her — warning — 
for God's sake — she loves him still— Oh Tom, I'm going — 
Tom! 

To7n. — [Rouses, lifts his head.) Yes, I'm better Ruth, Oh, I 
remember — I heard Hal's voice — Is he dying? Hal, dear 
Hal. 01), what have we been fighting for? Ha], it's I — 
it's Ton:— speak to me — belore ycni go. I'll hold your hand 
while the black shadow falls — and I'll guard — Mamie. Oh, 
my God, he's going! Hal, Hal, good bye. 

Bal. — God bless you, Tom, The letter -she loves — 
Huzza — There's Stonewall — good bye! (^'alls back dead.) 

To7n. — [>^obbing.) He is gone. Oh, Ruth! Tear of this 
bandage — let my life go out with his. 



FOU 110:^OB.'8 $AKE. 41 

Ruth. — Hush, Toin. Fop yiojut motbaM'^ sake — guard your 

Tom — Yes, Unth, for her s.ike. fTunis head toward JIal] 
Go )d bye, brave soul, and dearest friend ! Ruth, what letter 
did he mean ? . . j ; , i . .,,j 

Ruth. — [Hesitatingly.] He was — anxious — icr — his sister. 
And lie — wished me — to send her — word. 

Torn. — Yes, Ruth, you can write her ihe letter my heart 
would dictate. Say I was with him — and saw him die 
That he fought nobly, and died a hero. But Ruth, say qo 
other word for me. I love her still — though she scorned 
me lint 1 would not bribe her through the love 1 gave to 
Hal. Hark — what is that? 

Ruth. — Yes, the soldiers are singing at the camp fire yon- 
der. [Tliey listen — an unseen chorus sing very so^tly^/^ibe l^st 
strain of 'Tenting on the Old Camp Ground. "j.^jj .,!,;.;,, .,,i 

CHORUS. 

Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, 

Wishing for the war to cease; 
Many are the iiearts waiting for the right, 
To see the dawn of peace. 

Dying to-niglit — Djing to-nightM'" '' 
Dying on the old camp ground. '■' 

[Tom sleeps.] '' "' ' ' 

Ruth —Ihi sleeps — he will live. Kind HeriVen, 1 ask no 
more! I'll nurse him back to life, and then - and then- — 
(looking at Tom with passionate fondness.) Oh, my love! 
my brave, dear heart, — is it not God himself who resurrects 
that sweet, sweet hope? [Passionately.] It might have 
been — but for that Southern girl — may it not yet be. since 
Fate — Oh God! it c- nnot be wicked to pr.ay fa- that which 
she has scorned. Yes, it was only a dying fancy of her 
brother — she cannot be in danger! And if she were — what 
then ! No, no. I'll not vex my brain with an idle fancy. 
And I promised nothing. No, no. I did not promise — I'm 
sure of that. And it would be only cruel to torture Tom 
with foolish fears. [Intense emotion.] Oh, Tom, Tom — 
Heaven gives you to me at last — and must I then--Oh, T 
cannot refuse the gift of heaven— yes, of heaven — of heaven 
[Kisses Tom's forehead.] 

CUKTAIir FALLS. 



42 FOR HONORIS SAKE. 

'•^ • . ■■ " ACT' v; 

MM.v \,u:u^. .^A L'OVE TRIUxMPHANtr "' " 

{At Col. Vincent's — same as Scene I, Act.Jll.) ' ' 

^ ' Marnie —{A\oi\e — ^dressed simply, V)Ut eh'anniiigly,— look- 
ing at HnTa picture on the wall.) Oh, Ilul, where are you, 
ray noble brother? Liviufjj or ile.id you are counted with he- 
roes. Can I not then suft' r cheerfully? But, oh, this sus- 
pense is cruel. They say you were missing in that terrible 
fight (Passionately.) Missing — missing — missing! Oh, 
Gtid, give nie news of liim soon. One look — one sound of 
bis X'oice— ^6ven one word penned by jiis hand — Oli, God!- — 
Ibtrne 'not lose faith! Lift me out ol this gloom that en- 
gtilfsme! (Walks to and fro.) Oh Tom, Tom — have yow 
forgotten me during these tenible yearx! How I gloried 
when I'veiid of your bravery, (fakes ring from ht-r bosom.) 
Yes tJiat was his ring. Poor, liroken ring! Yet 1 glory in 
the pride that crushed it. For I loo was proud. (Fiercely.) 
Yes, still am proud! Fll not live over again that dream of 
love. Not even my thoughts stiall l)e traitorous to the South. 
(Enter Col. V. on crutches — wearing failed Confeder.ile uiii- 
tbrm — Miss Browne obsequiously attetnpting to .aid him.) 

Miss £ — What felicity, Col., to render the sliohtest as- 
sistance to a gallant, crippled soldier! Ah (sees Mamie — 
who runs to her father ) 

Mamie. — Papa, dear, why did you not send for me? [To 
Miss B.] And Miss Browne, 1 wish you to understand that 
■ijt^S my right—and mine only —to serve my fither. [Helps 
Ker father tenderly to a chair. Miss H. letires cre.>*tfillen.] 

Col. V. — (As Mamie looks up into his face, knecdingat his 
feet.) My darling is sad to-night. Yes, the iron of War 
ha$ struck df ep into your soul. Wealth gone — jewels gonfe 
— your father crippled, and your brotlier missing — all the 
light and joy gone out of our home! 

J/f/j/iitf — (Liy;htly--putting her hand over h's niouth.i) 
Hijsh, papa, — my burdens are light, so long as you ai'e le4"t 
me . 

,('oL V.r-f-BU^sa you, my daughter; though I am sadly 
inaiiipn-djJiCiiin help you bear them, until you can rest theWi 
on ,. stronger shoulders ;m ■ •)iii m ;.ii •• 

Mamie. — Ilu^ih, papa — no more. !.(.o(!')(«») v'dk.T ^-oHKiJl! 

Col. F;— (Stroking litTj head fondly.) Yes. Mamie, you 
are beautiful —beautiful as was your mother. War must end 



FOR HONOURS SAKK. 43 

.: .ir:< .-';;■. ^ -1, ■.■•^ • ; ) 

at last. And many a brave heart that battle could not 
daunt, will be ready' tO yield 'uficonuitlcVHally to my ^outhei-n 
Qiieen of B»»anty ' 

■ J/c/m/« ^No inore, papa — I command. 

C'cl. V — My sweet child, I pray to Ileareii that ere I cro 
under the soil, I m.iy see you cherished by ai)rave and noble 
heart. And you must pardon your old father the question— 
biit do you care for this Filzhugh? He shuns me, and well 
he may, tor I bear little love for these army contractors. But 
y<ni have permitted his visits — and I have feared he has soHie 
ylranjjje power over y(tu. 

3/(rA«/e. — Papa, I loath — (hesitatinj^ly) that is, I do not 
care — you see. (Dropping iier face on her father's knee.^ 
No, no, iio-^[ do not love him. (Then looking u\>.) Trust 
me, papa. I love only you, and our sacred cause. 

Col- V. — You lighten my heart, Mamie. But seel the 
moon is rising. Will you help me to th;it seat in the gar- 
den? (M.imie gently aids irnn-they retire.) 

(Eriter l\iiss Browne and Kitzliugh.) 

Fitz. — Miss Browne — to-night, 1 plead my cause for the 
last time. 

Miss B. — I'm sure your devotion ought to be rew.'irded, 
Mr. Fitzhugh. 

l^'^itz. — Yes, and yours. Miss Browne. Don't lose heart; 
Jet me get the girl out of the way, and you'll trap the old 
Colo'iel yet 

Miss B — Your levity, sir, is extremely iiiappro[)riate. 

Fdz —Ha, ha! Weil, Mi«s Browne, I want clie servants 
to go on a lark down to the Corners — d'ye understand? And 
here's a slight recognition of your invaluable services. 
(Gives money.) 

Misfi li — -Do not think me mercenary, Mr. Fitzhngh. 1 
delight in aiding !i romantic affection^ — especially an u:ire 
qui led one. 

Fitz. — Enough of your Sentimental twaddle! And I'll 
give you a last hint — you'll never catch the Colbnel with 
that chaff. But now to business.' T6-night my tkMiiinph 
C'lfne."— i-tair or foul, as she wills it. She is in my power at 
last. So' you m.iy request her I'najesty (in)nic:rlly) to r'.ivor 
me with an audience. (Miss B. retires —Fitzhugh Continues.) 
Ye*, her brother is dead, her father a cripple, and if she 
wcbrii lue again-^l'li take her by force. My plans are laid, 

f/l b'jjhf lili^ ,iU;rtiYi9 j»i>V 



CI- ..< AK- .1>-: 

44 rOR honor's sake. 

}<>!] ! •!)!'>•) ■ij-',,i' )j. i; ' ■ '"ii' .• ... . !'/■ Ti, 

uiy yacht is pn<?horer* in the, bay, mj men are at b,and, aiijd 
wait only for niy orders. I've skinned enough out of the 
Confederacy to warrant a trip to Europe. So if she refuse 
me this last time, she B«;!als her own fate. By midniiJfl.t we'll 
be at sea, and this haughty beauty will be in my arms, 
(Meditating.) Yes, I must play cautiously, for this passion 
that consumes me, is a [)i)<)r partner. I'll win he; in lawful 
rufirriage if skillful p]ea<ling c:'n do it. That will be better. 
Then the estates — Ah, (Bows ol)sequiously as Mamie en- 
ters.] 

Mamie. — [Haughtily.] Mr. Fit/Juigh, I eaid I would see 
you no more. Wliat dues this mean? 

FHz. — It means that your be; uty has eiislaved me; that I 
cannot live without you; [confidently] that I will have you 
fulfill the pledge sealed by your fither's hoiior.; 

J/am/f'. —[Fiercely.] Sto]>! no more. And the word 
Honor ill suits your lips. Yet I once thought you noble, 
when you surrenilcred your claim to my hand — seeing your 
suit was distasteful. 

I^^itz. — Yes, I was foolish enough to let my passion fly the 
field and leave it to the lovfc of a whining Northern 

Mamie. — (liaising lier hand imperiously.) Beware! do 
not make me a fiend. Enough that you broke the chain. 
H.)nor does not Ijreak a shackle and then seek to rivet ii 
agjiin. 

J^itz. — Does the woman enter bondage, then, who becomes 
a wifey 

Mamie — (Scornfully.) Yes, if she mate with cowardice 
and treachery. I kiujw the sacredness of my father's oath; 
and to Iieip him keep it I would suffer <!ven death. I could 
wed poverty, deformity, but not dishonor. Our betrothal 
never bound mo to that. So I might have renewed the faith 
you claim — but for yourself. 

Jfltz. — Has some villain accused me falsely ? What do 
you mean ? 

Mamie — (With intense scorn.) I mean this! That when 
every brave man is in the field, you lurk in the rear. You 
wait to talk of Love and Honor, while dear old Virginia is 
dying. While yt)U should be where bullets are whistling, 
you have sucked the life-bloud of the south with your con- 
tracts and speculations. A coward — one who fattens on the 
miseries of the soldiers and the needs of starving women and 
children — a money-making civilian, who would bleed his 



FOK honor's SA^CE. , 45 

,,; . ! iiUfi} -.Hi ,Jo:-. 

country in her (lyiiiij hour! — -wed; such a oreaturbf 'Ntr! 
I'd defy the powers of heaven, did tliey command it! I have 
answered you — Go! [Points imperiously] ii I ; .« 

I^Uz. — Let me speak— 1 -mI miuIj 'ni.d. 

Mamie. — [Still pointing.] Go!— I say. i ii'i)- ^^u.\.\*. 

Fitz. — Uf your brother. !;ifii oj f)ii// iiir I 

Murnle. — My iirotlier — what ol him — oh what of him? 
[Sinks into a chair — her hands clasped appealiiigly.] 

Fitz. — You have scorned me unjustly — now listen. It is 
not f<jr me to boast; and you did not know I had given a for- 
tune to your sacred cause — that I have fought in more than 
one battle, though I wore no soldier's dress. And in the 
tight ill which your brotlif^r fell — 

Minnie. — My brother de;i«l ! Oiny God! 

i't73. --Forgive me for l)reaking the news so harshly. And 
I ask pardon for firNt pressing my suit; but I did not \Vish 
to strengthen it through your gratitude. Yes, I was witli 
your noble brother when he died — and bear a letter from him. 
[Hands a letter ] 

Mamie. — (Reads letter excitedly,) Yes, yes. it is my 
brotlier's — (Sobs— looks again) — but oh. so cold, so unlike 
him. Yet he speaks of your kindnes:,, and prays me to treat 
you as one who risked his life lo soothe my brother's dying 
hour. Oh. llal, Hai ! — Did he send only this? 

Fitz — Here are some keepsakes he wished me to give you. 
This he took from a locket on his breast. 

Mamie — (Eagerly. )--It is my last gift— half of my moth- 
er's ring. By it we sealed our parting vow. (Trustfully.) 
Oh, you must be brave and true, or Hal would not haye 
trusted you. (Falling on her knees.) Forgive rae<— Ohyf^r- 
give me. •' 

Fitz. — Rise, I beg. (Assists her.) You would be alone, 
I will leave you now — only let me take with me one little 
word of hope from your sweet lips. ' ; 

Mar.de — (Passionately.) — Would you talk of love noW? 
Oh, tell me of Hal, for Heaven's sake! 

Fitz —There is but little to tell. Though a civilian, I 
went into the fight. As we were driven back the last time, 
I stopped in answer to the entreaty of a dyinir officer. It 
was your brother, whom I did not know, till he begged me 
to give his sister these mementoes, and then wrote this 
hasty message. I left him comfortable and cheerful. But 
when we were permitted to bury the dead, his body could 



46 rOR HONOR S SA^KE. 

not be found. Ho must have been taken off vritli Federal 
wodnded, and probably died in their hands. When you are 
calraei", I will sue you again. Pardon rue— (ho'di'ig out his 
hands) --may I not be your brother' now — (passionately) — 

nearer — more than brother 

Mamie — (Fiercely.) Stop I stop! (Then relenting ) Oh, 
I am wild to-night. But no one could take Hal's place. 
(Sobbing.) And more — I promised him — it was my parting 
vow to n)y lost brother — that no man should have my hand 
till the end had come. 

J^itz. — And may not an idle promise be justly broken? 

J/t/mie.— (Intense feeling.) Hush ! Call not the promise 
idle, given to my dead brother, by our mother's memory. 
Fltz — (Recklessly.) I care more for the living, than fancied 
obligations to the dead. You tempt me to anticipate Fate 
— f(»r sooner or later you must be mine 

Mamie — (In fury — pointing imperiouply.) Go! — My 
brother would hare scorned your service had he know^n you 
as I do. Perhaps you come for pay— then Fil give you 
money — but never my Honor Go! go! (He retires, smpth-^ 
eriiig hi» rage.) (Clasping her head wildly.) Oh, nw 
father— bow can I tell you that Hal is dead! (fafting her 
head) He may not be dead. But, Oh, he would never 
have given up those keepsakes had he not known his wound 
was mortal. (Going.) Yes, I must tell him that Hal is 
gone ! Oh, my darling brother. (Looking at picture.) 
But I'll not grieve papa further. The troubles that are niine 
alone, must be borne as the true woman always bears them — 
hidden deep in my heart. (She goes out.) 

[Enter Jake cautiously.] 

Jake. — I knowed she'd jine the Gunnel 'fore long. Now 
I must find Rosie, an' git suthin' ter eat — an' I wont make 
no 'bjections ter a leetle tangle-foot. (He goes ou'c at side 
— whistles softy.) 

[Enter Rosa on opposite side.] , " ' '' 

-^osa.— Oh, Miss Mamie, de Lor bress us. (Stop.s — tneu 
to herself.) Golly, I wuz shore I dim heard Jake whistle.' 
(Frightened.) Dar mus' be goses— es rotin'. Oh deah Lo'd, 
don't let 'em hurt po' niggah! ' , 

[En ter Jake.] ^ , ' ' , ' 

Jake. — Rosie, (She cries out^-covers her face) dori^t 'y^ 
go fur to be frightened. ■ I aint no ghost— not jest yit;"' ^uV 



FOK honor's eiiKS? 4i 

I'm goin' fur Xer be.elf I don't git suthin' ter eat purty SoohV 

-Rcsie—(JJui)ov<it\\\^ her face ) HI, dat's yoii, shore en'-i 
uff, Jake — allers waiitiii' somting t' ea'. ' 

Jake. — YeH, Rosie, an' now listen mighty sharp. The fact 
is, Major Toni's out yere. 

Untile. — Golly, Jake— It (^an't be no gose, it's you. You'se 
lyin jt-s ez ye allers did.. Gbos'es-s wouldn't lie. 

Jake. — Quit yer palaver, Kosie. The Major s hid out thar 
in the garden. An' we're hungrier 'n turkey-Wuzzards. Yer 
see we luk the Major prisoner— the durned fool charged all 
alone on twenty uv us — but we couldn't bar to shoot hitn 
down. Wal — S(,mehow. ye see, he 'scapeil — an' ez I wanted 
a leetle rest from tigh m\\ I clar'<i out Jnyself, luk French 
vou know- skedaddled— v.amoosed — an' sol holped Mryor 
Ti'iu along a leeile, — thet's what I promised Col. Hal I'd 
do. We struck fur the coast, so I cum whnr 1 knowed 'he 
road the best. But they war arter us duyned close, an' druv 
us in yere. I know'il they wouldn't 'spect the Gunnel uv 
holpin' a 'scaped Union prisoner. But don't ye let on a 
word uv it — or I'll make ye a black angel. Major Tom 'ud 
ruther be tuk. agin than let the Gunnel or Mamie know he's 
yerc Now pike fur sura vittles quicker'n a mule kin kick — 
an' see yere, Kosie, karn't ye fotch me a leetle red-eye, ye 
know, a bottle of busthead, ef it's handy? 

liosie. — Yes, Jc;ke — I'll corntiscate suthin' fur ye. (Goes 
out ) 

«/(/^-c.-- [Steps around — watchiiiii the garden ] I know 
Major Tom's dyiu' to git a look at Miss Mamie. Mebbe he's 
walchin' uv her now out thar in the moonshine. Lord, how 
he loves thet gai. [Rosie enters with a bottle and two roast 
chickens.] 

Jake.< — Thet's a loikely gal, Rosie. Thet'll sarve us, 1 
reckin. , Yer see I've a boat hid down thar under the rocks, 
an' before sun-up Major Tom'U be out to the Yankee gun- 
bjats, an' I'll stait fur camp agin. So goodbye-— MUm — re- 
komember — [puts finger on his lips.] Mum — mum — .' [He 
retires — also Rosa. The Col and Mamie enter [ 

Col. V. — My darling child, the worv-^t has come at last. 
God help you to bear Hal's death bravely — as he would have 
you bear it, Mamie, I am not superstitious, but I feel to- 
night a vague suspense — as I felt on the eve of my last bat- 
tiv- And you thougl/t you -saw some ooe prpwlm'g in the 



48 FOR honor's sake, 

garden. I would not alarm you, my child, but 1 wish'ybit 
would see that my revolver is loaded. [Helps her father to 
chair.] 

Mamie. — Certainly, papa, if you wish it. But a scarred 
old veieran must not be timid. [Mamie loads revolver — pla 
ces it on table,] 

Rosa. — (Eiiterijii; with small newspapr-r ) Massa Gunnel, 
hyar's dc paper Mose jis brunijf frum <le Corners. 

Col. K— (Takes paper — reads. "i Great heavens, Mamie, 
in the liijht three days auco, Tom was taken prisoner, and es- 
caped the same niujht. Is supposed to have fled toward the 
coast. A rt'war'l is offered for his capture, and they are 
close on his track, Mamie, he may be near us — miglit seek 
shelter with us. 

Rosa. — [Anxiously,] 'Spose he cum yere — vvhat'ud ye do 
Massa Ctninel — guv him up? 

Col V. — Well, JM rather not know he was here, Kosa. 
[Laughmt; ] J5ut it he comes, you may aid him without my 
knowledge. [Fiosa goes out delighted.] 

Mami". — What? Trenson, dear papa! And you aid one 
who is tiirhting against Virginia? [Sits on stool atjhis feet.] 

Col. V. — Well, Mamie, he was HnTs trusted friend. And, 
darling, — for I must tell ynu sooner or later— our cause can 
never triumph. But for Honor's sake we must fight to the 
bitter end. And the sooner it cornea the better. 

Mamie. — Oh, papa, don't talk so. You could never be 
reconcih'd. 

Col. F!— Mamie, brave men, who have fought against each 
other in honest fight, can be easily reconciled. The Federals 
have fought well — and we will fight till we are utterly bro- 
ken — till we surren<ler, not to superior valor, but to the In- 
evitable. Then — and I dare to say it, fur it is not traitor- 
ous to say it — it is possible ihe sections may be reconciled. 
Conquering Might cannot fail to respect defeated Valor. 
But what would my darling do should Tom come to us for 
shelter? 

Mamie — [Sterrdy ] I should refuse it. But no need to 
think of that [Rosa admits Kuth — in traveling dress — Ruth 
stands unnoticed — Mamie continues excitedly.] Tom is at 
least too brave to ask shelter of the woman who has scorned 
him 

Col. V. — Scorned him! Mamie? Why, even I love him 
almost as I did Hal ! 



FOlf ifoiT<>R*S SAKE. 49 

Mianiie. — And fathef^^l— scorned him, as I do every one 
who would strike at the South. . , 

Ruth. — [Steps f.irwardjbre^kihg dftt passionately.] TJi^n, 
Mamie Vincent. [Mamie springs up amazed,] before Gfod, 
who seTids me as your accuser, I tell you that you have 
scorned the noblest heart thit ever' won woman's lov,e., \ 

Mamie. — [Haughtily] Who are you, woman, ,tha^,<laie 
to speak thus? ' :]\' ' ; ' , 

Knth. — -[Firmly.] One who has earned the right to speak. 
Listen. One month ago I was nurse in a Northern hospital. 
A great battle came, and they told me my foster-brother 
was lying wf,uiided on the field. For many weary hours 
that night. I searched the battle-ground. At last I found 
him. Oh, my God. it was terrible! (Covers her eyes.) At 
the very moment, in the darkness, he was holding at bay a 
villain who sought the life of his dear friend lying near. 
That friend was a young Confederate officer — Hal, Vincent; 
(Mamie shrieks,] and my foster-bro'her was — Tom Chase. 

Mamie. — Forgive me — Oh, go on — go on ! 

Ruth. — I saw yuur brother die. And with his last words 
he besjged me to save you. The villain who sought to kill 
him fled, but diouped a letter revealing a base plot against 
your hoi, or and happiness— a plot to capture you and carry 
you with him over the sea. From this fate, your brother, 
with his last breath, begged me to save you.; ^'' . ' ' ! . , 

Col. V. — Woman, yc^u say this was a month ago,' yet my 
daughter is still unharmed. Your story is very mysterious, 

Iluth. — [Appealingly] Oh, sir, do not doubt me now. It 
will kill me. Yes, I waited — Go>i forgive me — I coula not 
come— at first. [To Mamie.] But the conviction grew upon 
me with terrible strength that you were in danger — that I 
must come — to save you. So at length I pleaded —forced 
my way through the lines — begged my way hither — and 
Heaven be praised, I am in time to save you from worse than 
death! [Hands ihe p.iper to Col, V.] Here is the letter 
the villain dropped, — (Then to Mamie.) I know it is no 
idle fear that tortured your brother's dying hour. (Then to 
Col, V.) Oh, arm — arm! the blow may fall even to-night, 
(To Mamie,) and I would save you tor your father's sake — 
your dead brother's sake— for Tom's sake. Oh, he loves you 
yet — give him your heart again — he is noble — worthy all 
love, H« fell wounded at your brother's side — and would 
have given his life for Hal's. He is a hero, too. In twa short 



50 FOB HONORIS S^AIrKi 

week* he"~wa8 agjain in bnttle — and now — Oh, lErod,,no«» he 
is a prisoner. Can you not find him and save hira? (Clatp- 
ing her haiids.) Oh. save hini, save him!, 

JEtc^mtV. —[Wildly ] Woman, I read; your heart — you 
plead for yourself — you love him! And you would have mtv 
believe that you came here to save me for his sake? Out 
on such bloodless h.ye. 

Ruth — Oh, God, let me die ! I am so weak— so weak — - 
(Wildly.) Why can I not Iiate you? (Then softly.) But. 
Oh, I cannot even hate you, because — because Tom — loves 
you. (Snatching pi.stol fr<mi table,) Oh, kill me if you 
will, kid me, and 1 will bless you for it — (breaking down) 
but do not sting me with your cruel words, (Kaisingher 
head) or, bid w/e do the deed, if you w 11, (Pointing pistol 
to her own heart) an(l the l.fe I'll freely give will prove m\ 
truth. Then you ill believe that I canie — as I told you — only 
to save you — Oh, my God, to save the woman who has 
scorned him. (tShe sinks down quivering with emotion ) 

Mamie. — (Reading truth in Kuih's'eyes.) Forgive me, oh, 
forgive me. You are stronger than I — truer than I. Oh 
God! 1 never ceased to love him all these yt-ars. But we 
may both love him. I can never be his. I have given all 1 
have of love and life to the 8 lUthern cause. That has been 
— must be — my religion — God — heaven. 

(Enter Fitzhugh with followers fr<im rear R. Mamie 
stands on front R near her lather— Ruth is on front L. As 
Fitzhugh enter.'-, liis ioliowers bind and gag Col. V. Fitz 
hugh rushes to IVhimie while he spcpks. Mamie shrieks and 
rushes to the other side of her rather, sinking down near- 
Ruth. Ruth, rising, faces Fitzhugh. As Fitzhugh fires, 
Tom, Jake and Rosa rush in from rear L. Tom fires on the ■ 
instant, after Fitziiugh, and the latter staggers back and falls-i 
at side R. As Ruth falls, Mamie catches her and bears her ■ 
to a sofa on L, tlien rushes to her father, as the ruffians are ■ 
overcome. Jake stabs one — knocks .over the other — witlif, 
Rosa's help binds him.) 

Pitz. — [To Mamie.] Come, my pretty bird — your cage i.s 
ready. Will you come quietly — or must we tie your wings? 

7?//M. — [Raising pistol.] I will save her 

[Fitzhugh shoots Ruth on the instant — Mamie bears her 
to sofa — Tom, Jake and Rosa rush in.] 

Torn. — [Shooting Fitzhugh.] Die, murderer I 



[Jake ^tabs One— KnbL'Ks tlie other down, and with RosU'ii. 
help binds him.] , , \: 

Tom — [Rusliinsj to Ruth — kneels ] I heard ray sister'i 
voice Can it be? Oh, Ruth, ray dear, sweet sister, speak 
to rae. My God, she is dying. [Looking round.] Mamie, 
what does it mean V— how came she here? 

3famie. — [Approaching ] She loved you, Tom, as loyally 
as ever woman loved- she would have s ived me, her rival, 
from this horrible plot, for your sake. [Kneeling at Huth's 
side.] Oh, forgive me, forgive rae. 

Ruth. — (Dying.) Tom — will yon — kiss n\o — good bye?, 
(Tom kisses her — then l>ows his head sobbing — holding lier 
liand.) Mamie — sister--! am dying — will you not — love him 
— now ? 

Mamie — Yes, yes — you have taugiit me how to love. 
Tom, by the side of this dying woman, I tell you 1 always lovnd 
you. (Takes I'ing from her bosom.) See, Tom, this i* your 
ring. Does not this speak for me? 

liuth. — Now death is sweet — (Places Tom's hand in Ma- 
mie's.) Good bye, Tom — good bye — Mamie. (Falls back 
dead.) 

7bm, — (Bending in agonized grief over Ruth — kissing her 
brow — Mamie softly rises and fetches sheet or white pall — 
Tom rises, and stands with folded arms — Mamie kneels, 
kisses Ruth — then gently throws the fall over her— again 
kneels.) Heaven bless you, my darling. I too, surrender 
all my pride. For love I will surrender everything but 
Honor. Yon taught me that. Have I learned tlie lesson ? 
( 'J'hey kneel before Col. V. — he blesses tliem.) 

Col. F^— Bless you, my children. We will wait patient- 
ly for the end. VYhen the war is over, Tom, we'll wiit your 
comif)g. My boy is gone — and I shall soon follow. I'll live 
in you. It is not hard for brave men to be reconciled. 

[Tom and Mamie rise— stand on Col. V.'s right] 
Tom. — (Turning to Jake— taking his hand ) J.ike, old fel- 
low — you ha\*e risked your life for mine. Thi.s villain is 
de.ad. At midnight, his own yacht shall take me out to the 
the fleet — we'll both go back to fight the war through to the 
end — for Honor's Sake. (Again shaking his hand.) I can 
never repay you. / ; ; iif 

Jalce. — No more ye karn't. Major Tom. Ole Jake haint 
run the risk o' dancin' a breakdown on top o' nuthin' fur 



52 FOR HONOR S SA^. 

pay. It war all ftir my dead Col. Hal's sake, an' leetle J>ia- 
inie's, thar. . 

Mamie — (Taking Jake's hand.) Mamie thanksjyou, Jake, 
with all her heart. 

[Jake and Rosa stand at CoK V.'b left.] 

Tom. — Throws back his cape --showing his suit of blue — 
drawing Miiniie to his heart.) Yes, Col., when the war is 
over I'll coine to claim my bride. And here in the presence 
of the dead — and with the memory of so many brave dead, 
fresh in my heart — the spell of projthecy is upon me^ 

Mamie. — (Dropping her head on his breast appealingly.) 
Oh, Tom — do not ehide — do not chide me. 

Tom. — No, Mamie, I'll never chide you for holding in ten- 
der memory the cause for which your brother gave his life. 

e/'aA'tf.— (Aside.) I know'd he war the right sort ef he is 
a Yank. 

Tom — But now that your heart beats with mine I may 
tell you that the Union for which I hav'e fought will live — 
the Genius of Freedom has ordained it in this baptism of 
fraternal blood. But thank God all that isbestin tl)e Cause 
you have cherished will live with it ! Southern devotion 
and heroisin can never die — and the North will not seek to 
kill that which glorifies the name American. The Curse we 
have borne wasnot the South's — it wa<« the Nation's — and 
the North, too, has gladly opened her veins to wash it out. 
I thank the God of Freedom that we are fighting out no war 
of Conquest, no war for the mere honor of Arms, no war of 
race-hatred — but a war of Sentiment that the Future will 
call sacred — a war that on either side meant unswerving loy- 
alty to honest convictions of right With the red stripes of 
war the Angel of Peace will dye the old Flag anew with 
Northern and Souther') blood, and brighten the stars with a 
Nation's Glory! The historian will tell the story — less of 
our Country's shame than her salvation — and the school-boy 
as he cons it, shall see shining in every line American brave- 
ry and devotion! A United People — we'll honor all our 
Worihy Dead! Then will the North echo the strain of the 
poet who voices the heart-thrill of the South — 

[Col. V. bows his head — Tom's right hand clasps Mamie's 
rifrfit — vvith her left arm she clasps her father's brow — Tom 
lifts h's left arm from Mamie's waist toward heaven — looking 
upward.] 



FOR honor's sake. 53 

"Stoop, Angels, hither from the skies; 

There is no holier spot of ground 
Than where defeated Valor lies — 

By mourning Beauty crowned." 

CU14TA1N FALLS.* 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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